


Old Magic, Young Love

by Miss_Ebony



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Jaskier has no idea what he's doing, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oxenfurt Academy (The Witcher), Oxenfurt shenanigans, Rating May Change, Romance, Slow Burn, blushing!Geralt, but he tries ok?, how do they work, please somebody explain to him, so much blushing Geralt, what are these emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23964988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Ebony/pseuds/Miss_Ebony
Summary: For quite some time, Jaskier had been off dealing with his one-sided feelings for Geralt just fine. Really. But when Geralt suddenly started to call him ‘love’ and started to act in a way more befitting of a smitten maiden rather than a brooding witcher, things started to get complicated.A little story starring a ridiculously high-dose love potion, a blushing mess of a jealous witcher, an eternally suffering bard as well as a bustling city, promising solutions but ending up being a scene for awkward courting, mutual pining and…dancing?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 92
Kudos: 415





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beware, this is going to be a multi-chapter fic of shameless fluff.

“Sooo, are you sure this is the place where this sorceress is supposed to live?”

There came a low hum from the witcher in front of him as he dismounted Roach. They had followed a narrow, beaten path through a forest in the area around Oxenfurt city, which Jaskier wouldn’t have been able to find even if the life of his dear mother had depended on it. So even though the path had basically reeked of magic, Jaskier couldn’t quite believe that the house they found at its end would home a sorceress. Well, calling it a house might be an exaggeration.

“So, you’re telling me,” Jaskier went on as he proceeded to dismount his own horse, “that a sorceress - you know, those magic wielding, power and luxury loving women – would live in a hut? In the woods? What is she even doing here? Luring little children down this path to take away their youth and make herself young and pretty again?”

“Don’t be silly,” Geralt said with a pointed look in Jaskier’s direction. “Everybody knows sorceresses don’t age.” He patted Roach’s neck and tied the mare’s reins to the little wooden fence which did a pretty sad job of shielding the hut and the little adjacent herb garden from the wilderness of the forest. Jaskier followed Geralt’s lead. He then unknotted his lute from where it had been tied to his horse’s saddlebags to strap it across his back.

“Don’t tell me not to be silly,” Jaskier huffed, following his friend to the hut’s door. “This whole situation is silly! I mean, tell me again, why are we here? So you could return this ‘magic lamp’ to this sorceress friend of yours, whom you don’t even know about whether she’s still living in this shabby hut? Doesn’t seem any silly to you?”

“You’re just mad because your newest ballad isn’t coming along the way you’d like it to. Now, shut up and be nice.”

“Oh, that’s rich! You telling me to be nice!” Jaskier shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. Geralt didn’t respond this time but went straight ahead to knocking at the excuse of a door which was creaking at its hinges at the impact. “I’d still bet that we’re not going to find a single soul in – “

„My, if it isn’t Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself!”

The door had swung open livelier and quicker than Jaskier would have ever thought the old dead wood capable of. In the doorway then stood a young looking, blonde woman with her dress’ neckline as low cut as they would come. Her eyes were sparkling with something Jaskier couldn’t quite name, but if he had to, he would have probably called it mischief.

“Keira Metz, still living her best life in the woods,” Geralt responded with a small smirk.

“Very funny, White One,” Keira responded drily, crossing her arms over her chest. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t listen to every word we uttered since we set foot on your path? No magical ears around the forest?”

“Well, if you put it like that, I’m glad that you dropped by to return my lamp,” she said with a smile. “And no, I didn’t listen to your every word because I grew tired of you two bickering like an old married couple rather quickly. Speaking of which: Who’s this lovely young man who calls my home a shabby old hut?”

Geralt and the sorceress were now both staring at Jaskier.

“I, uh – “ he started eloquently, “my name’s Jaskier, bard and poet of all the lands enjoying the fine arts. It’s a pleasure to meet you, mistress of magic.”

“Mistress of magic,” Keira repeated, now looking at Geralt. “A fine poet you got yourself there, Geralt. My, I haven’t been called like that since my time at the court. But why have this conversation standing? Please, if you would follow me into my _shabby hut_.”

The ‘shabby hut’ turned out to be anything but shabby - or a hut - from the inside. Even though appearing small from the outside, the inside of the hut provided more space than what should have been physically possible – without magic, of course. Luxurious furniture carved from expensive woods, covered in plush pillows in combination with overburdened bookshelves covering the walls made up for a rather nice home décor. Actually, so nice that upon looking around Jaskier had to admit that he’d seen nobles in Novigrad living more modest than this. His mouth started watering a little upon spotting huge, deeply red strawberries in a bowl on a heavy oak table.

In conclusion, he was pretty sure that this whole place was almost entirely made up of magic.

“Well,” he said then after clearing his throat. “Geralt, you could have told me that we were going to visit a lady of such fine tastes. I would have at least changed my boots.”

“Oh, your little bard seems impressed if I just went from a witch who lures little children into the woods to a lady of fine tastes,” Keira smiled sweetly at Geralt, seemingly amused by Jaskier.

“You could have also told me that she could hear every word we said,” Jaskier then hissed, his cheeks tinting slightly pink.

“First of all, he’s not my little bard,” Geralt said to Keira before turning to Jaskier. “Second of all, you were so caught up in spinning your little tale about a witch in the woods, so who am I to interfere with such imagination?”

“Oh, I love it when you go all sarcastic on me. Gives you a real sophisticated air.”

“And you’re back to bickering like you were married with five kids,” Keira sighed. “What’s this about, Geralt? Last time I see you, you’re this brooding, mysterious witcher, taking off to talking to dead people with my lamp. And now you’re here with this little pretty boy, having a relationship crisis? I’m sorry, old friend, but if you two actually came here for some relationship advice, then I’m afeard you came to the wrong sorceress.”

“Come again?” Jaskier said, his voice pitched embarrassingly high. Sure, he and Geralt had been traveling together for quite some time now and they were prone to bickering. But this was the first time someone called them out on it and took their behavior for…something different than friendship or a travel companionship at the very least. …Not that Jaskier had never imagined another type of relationship with the witcher. But those were thoughts most suited for another time, when no potentially mind reading sorceress was present while Jaskier was thinking them.

“Keira,” Geralt said seemingly much more composed than Jaskier, were it not for his lips tightly pressed together. “Stop calling Jaskier ‘little bard’ or ‘pretty boy’. He does have a name.”

At this comment, Jaskier felt himself flush a little. He couldn’t help reacting like that when Geralt was showing some degree of possessiveness over him. Even though he thought that being called ‘pretty boy’ was quite justified.

“And please stop just making things up as you go,” Geralt continued then. He walked over to a low table standing next to an impossibly comfy looking wing chair and placed the bag he had brought with them into the hut on it. Geralt then retrieved the lamp, which this whole visit was all about, from it and carefully placed it on the table. “After all, we came here with good intentions, not to start an argument.”

“Yes, yes, good intentions.” Keira walked over to the table and lifted the lamp up to eye level to inspect it. “Well, in spite of you living on the road and fighting monsters day and night, it still looks like the day I left it in your care. Awfully nice of you to return it, as well. Had some nice chats with the dead?”

Geralt was about to answer but Keira didn’t give him the chance. “Actually, nevermind that question. I’m infinitely more interested in the answers to my next questions. So, Geralt, dear old friend, would you mind accompanying me for a moment?”

Jaskier raised a questioning eyebrow at those words, waiting for Geralt’s reaction.

“If it must be,” was his eventual answer, gesturing for Keira to lead the way.

“Absolutely delightful. And Jaskier? Please feel free to make yourself at home. I shan’t take your witcher from you for too long.”

A sigh from Geralt was the last thing to be heard before he followed Keira, the lamp still in hand, out of the room.

At first, Jaskier just stood, a bit at a loss for what to do. He had to admit that he had very mixed feelings regarding this woman. He didn’t like the way she was talking to Geralt and more or less completely ignoring Jaskier himself. But then again, he had very mixed feelings about sorceresses in general. Even though endlessly beautiful, intelligent and fascinating, they could also be very cruel, cold hearted and dreadfully frightening. So to shake off the unpleasant feeling he was getting from thinking about it, he reached for the lute on his back and gently started plucking at its chords. A mindless melody started resonating from the instrument as Jaskier started walking around the room, inspecting it more closely.

After he had started traveling with Geralt, occasions for visits in luxurious homes like this had become far and few in between. A performance at court even rarer so. So Jaskier especially enjoyed the feeling of the wing chair’s soft embrace as he lowered himself into it, still plucking away at his lute. He also started humming in tune with the melody created by the play of his fingers. Yes, he had missed this kind of ambience, and yes, he had also missed the softness of expensive furniture, or just furniture in general, compared to the bedrolls they would use when the nights would fall on their journeys through the wilderness. But honestly? He would never trade traveling with Geralt for the luxury of a home stuffed with pretty things. Because Jaskier liked traveling with Geralt. Roaming the lands together with the witcher made up for an exciting life full of new things, undiscovered places. A life full of wonder.

Such a life also came with the nice side effect of Jaskier writing better ballads than he probably ever had before. Well, at least he thought so himself because on the road his audience was rarely ever made up of more than a witcher and two horses.

But besides the traveling and the new approach to everyday life, Jaskier also liked, well, Geralt. Of course, one would come to this conclusion given the assumption that one would need to like each other to travel together. But. You know. Thing is they didn’t like each other in the beginning. Or at least Geralt didn’t like Jaskier in the beginning. In fact, he had been extraordinarily keen on getting rid of Jaskier from the very moment they first met. But Jaskier stuck around because at first he had been fascinated by the idea of traveling with a witcher. No, not just any witcher. With Geralt of Rivia.

And not before too long, his fascination turned into something else. Because it turned out that Geralt was so much more than what people thought a witcher would be, should be. Sure, Geralt was a monster slayer after all, and he needed the coin which would come with a job well done like any other man needed coin. But those were about all the expectations Geralt would fulfill. Because he was by no means heartless or emotionless. In fact, Geralt had a better heart than probably most of the people he struck deals with. Also, he swore when a job had gone awry, he would be taken aback when he would learn that a friend of his had died, he would laugh at a good joke and cringe at a bad one. Speaking of which: Strangely enough, once Geralt would get comfortable enough to indulge one with more than just sarcasm, which probably came with the job, Geralt was downright fun. Jaskier especially liked that trait because it would conveniently come along with rather stunning smiles. Yes, at first he had also been surprised by the fact that the almost all the time stern looking, brooding witcher’s facial muscles were still capable of forming a smile. Later on, he was only surprised by the sheer amount and variety of smiles Geralt was capable of. And now, Jaskier would only be surprised if those smiles would disappear. 

So yeah, he was still fascinated by the witcher. But now just in a wholly different way.

But he would probably never confess this to anyone but himself. Jaskier breathed out a sigh and struck up a melancholy tune on his lute. God, he was being embarrassingly sappy. Which was quite the statement considering a great part of his profession was about singing sappy songs. Good ones, of course, but still sappy. He was about to start singing just such a song when the sorceress and Geralt finally returned.

Jaskier jumped up and out of the wing chair, feeling like he’d been caught wishfully thinking about the witcher, which felt like being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Geralt!” was the only thing that came to mind as he walked over to the two of them. Jaskier really hoped that he hadn’t given away the nature of his thoughts by anything when the two of them had entered the room. So rather flustered, he slung his lute back over his back and only now took a closer look at Geralt’s and Keira’s expressions.

Keira, on one side, didn’t look much different from before, safe for the smug smile and the even more mischievous gleam in her eyes. Geralt, on the other side, looked, for a lack of a better word to describe a witcher, a little flustered. And 'a little' meaning a whole lot in a witcher context. Well, at least it was much more than what you’d usually expect to be openly expressed by the normally composed and brooding Geralt. Sure, Geralt could be flustered. It was just that it almost never happened. So Jaskier felt like something was off. Quite suspicious even. It almost felt like Geralt was the one who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What happened?” Jaskier asked then, eyeing the two of them with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing,” Geralt answered briskly, avoiding the bard’s gaze.

 _Nothing, my ass_ , Jaskier thought, but didn’t say so. He really started wondering what had transpired between the sorceress and the witcher while he had been sitting here daydreaming.

“Oh, it’s absolutely wonderful, my little bard,” Keira smiled, seemingly delighted with something. “Just look at the two of you, absolutely _wonderful_!”

Jaskier was growing more confused by the minute. He first looked at Geralt, who was still avoiding his gaze, then back at Keira.

“What’s with the two of us?”

“Well, well, that’s a good question. Maybe we’ll be able to find out in the course of dinner. Yes, I’m inviting the two of you to have dinner with me. You see, it’s been a long time since I last had company I might enjoy dining with. So, what do you say?”

“Well,” Jaskier started, still trying to make eye contact with Geralt.

“No thanks,” the man in question stated brusquely, giving Jaskier enough reason to furrow his brow in confusion once again.

“Oh Geralt, look at you being delightfully grumpy. It’s hilarious, really,” Keira retorted, slightly rolling her eyes. “But are you sure you want to miss out on roasted chicken with rosemary? The sweetest seasonal fruits around? A fine wine from Cintra? Really, you don’t want to make a woman beg, do you?”

At the mere thought of having such a meal, Jaskier went a little weak at the knees. His eyes also darted once again to the strawberries sitting on the oak table. Ah, a kingdom for some strawberries.

“Also,” Keira continued, smiling at Jaskier’s longing gaze, “I would love if you’d perform a song or two for us, Jaskier. I heard you playing earlier, and I would be delighted to hear it again.”

That was all Jaskier needed to hear.

“Why, of course! Who am I to deny the lady a wish? I shall be honored to accompany our dinner with my humble performance,” Jaskier grinned broadly, indicating a little bow towards Keira. Well, what could he say? He was a simple bard. Someone would praise his playing and wished for a performance, and Jaskier’s spirits would soar immediately.

“Wonderful! Make yourselves comfortable, I shall be back in a minute!” And like this, Keira was gone.

“Geralt, can you believe this? At first I thought this house would be dead empty, or at the utmost inhabited by a little old hag, but – ”

“Jaskier.”

“ – now it turns out to be a magic home with, with _wing chairs_ and we’re getting a real dinner, and – ”

“Jaskier!”

“Yes, Geralt?”

“I still think we should get going.”

“Why, have you been bitten by a Nekker and are now starting to get delirious? This is the first time in ages we’ve had a proper dinner and, more so, are being offered one for free!” He then started walking over to the heavy oak table near the fireplace of the room, which wasn’t lit, and pulled back one of the chairs to sit down. Quite demonstratively, he hoped. “Besides, didn’t you say she is an old friend of yours? What harm is there in dining with an old friend?”

Geralt sighed a sigh of the long suffering but eventually came to sit across from Jaskier. “Right. What harm?”

\------

The dinner had been an absolute blast. The chicken had been the best, and admittedly only, magically cooked chicken Jaskier had ever eaten. The wine from Cintra had tasted delicious, but sadly had been gone way too soon. Luckily Keira had come up with a new bottle of wine right away. And after that, right away with a third one. At the fourth bottle – or was it the third? – Geralt had looked a little funny at the wine, asking what it was with its smell. But Keira had only made big eyes at him, asking the witcher whether he’d never smelled a wine from Toussaint before.

Jaskier also performed one of his newest works for Keira, a more risqué song called ‘The backdoor to her heart’. She seemed to quite enjoy it, so Jaskier counted it as a success. In the end, all of them were in differing states of drunkenness, chatting about this and that, laughing at stories being told, and all in all just having a good time, the strange air from before the dinner long forgotten. Jaskier even got to eat those damned strawberries.

Next thing he knew, they were back on horseback, apparently content on still getting some miles behind their backs before night would fall for good. Yes, the sun was still peeking out atop the trees, and yes, it seemed they’ve had a rather early dinner. And anyways, they had both agreed that they wanted to be back on the road again. Well, at least Jaskier had said ‘Avennture awaits, lessgo!’, which was understood perfectly by Geralt.

So even though Jaskier was a little worse for wear than Geralt, he was still managing to keep himself in his saddle.

“Wasn’t that great, Geralt? I knew it would be great! Didn’t I tell you that it would be great?” Jaskier said, the words a bit slurred and much louder than he had intended. But it was good that the words turned out so loud, because Jaskier thought that it made his point much clearer.

Geralt, only swaying a tiny bit in Roach’s saddle, smiled and said, “Whatever you say, love.”

Jaskier then turned to look at Geralt, leaning out of his saddle to look more closely at the witcher. He leaned a little too far and even might have fallen from his horse if it weren’t for Geralt pushing him back into his saddle. “What’d you say? Geralt?”

Geralt then furrowed his brow, like he was thinking hard, apparently trying to remember the words he had just uttered. “Hm, I said, wait – I said, ‘Whatever you say…..love’. Wait, did I say that?”

“Pfffh, yeah, you totally said that. Geralt, you’re funny. And drunk. Very drunk. Pfffh, calling me ‘love’. That’s funny, a funny thing, yes. Wait, how drunk are you, exactly?” This time, Jaskier’s slurring was much worse than before, probably because he was just blabbing away. He knew he was blabbing. But for a reason. Because it seemed like it was important to find out how far gone Geralt actually was. And to let him know that he thought it funny, not, you know, cute. Or heart stopping. Or anything. Yeah, that also seemed important.

At that Geralt blinked several times before saying, “Very drunk.”

And then, like adding an afterthought, “I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thing is, Geralt isn’t _very_ drunk. And Jaskier could have probably noticed that something was up the moment Geralt called him ‘love’.
> 
>   
> Thank you guys so much for reading this first chapter, it really means a lot to me!! So, how did you like the beginning of the story? I’d be incredibly happy about your feedback, criticism included!!
> 
> And who of you guys played the game/read the books and knows Keira? What ending did you get for her in the game? (I guess spoilers ahead?) I send her to Kaer Morhen :)


	2. Chapter 2

When Jaskier woke up the next morning, he had a pretty mean headache going on. He groaned as he sat up, shielding his eyes from the light already streaming in through the trees.

Last night they had sat up camp on a small clearing near the road they took after they had left from the dinner at the sorceress’ home. They were still in the forests around Oxenfurt – after all they didn’t make it very far considering their condition yesterday evening. But Jaskier remembered them drunkenly talking about the wines from the dinner which was followed by some nonsensical discussions about wine in general, he guessed? And if Jaskier wasn’t being mistaken, he also remembered that Geralt had somehow upset him and his wine expertise with his opinions on what a good wine should taste like. Jaskier thought that him taking offense by that might have been the reason why he didn’t want to ride on any further and wanted to set up camp right then and there. Well, it felt all a little blurry.

“Goddamned headache,” he mumbled as he started to massage his temples. Jaskier didn’t like to admit it, but he was afraid that his hangovers after a night of excessive drinking had become worse with him getting older. Another problem Geralt probably didn’t have to face with his witcher’s body. Speaking of witchers: Where _was_ Geralt?

Jaskier now looked around camp, still squinting his eyes against the light. The fire in the middle of their setup, which must have died down in the night, was now crackling again, giving off a pleasant warmth to shoo away the cold of the morning. But the witcher, who had sparked the fire once again, was nowhere to be seen. Geralt’s bedroll was empty, but Roach was still there, grazing on the tiny strip of grass near the camp, having breakfast.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called, immediately regretting raising his voice as the throbbing pain behind his eyes flared up viciously. He started cursing under his breath in Dwarvish, covering his eyes in an attempt to collect his thoughts. What was he going to do? Should he wait for Geralt to return? Should he go back to sleep? Or, the least appealing idea, should he actually get up and start searching for the witcher and find out where he had wandered off to? His whole body felt like it was decidedly not eager on getting up and going. What for, anyway? Geralt had probably just gone to take care of his morning business, or something. So Jaskier decided to once again lie down and try to go back to sleep.

The next time Jaskier awoke, it was to the smell of something cooking. Well, not exactly cooking. He just smelled something edible. For the second time that day, Jaskier sat up with a groan, his headache still going strong.

“Son of a Water Hag,” he said, again pressing his fingers to his temples.

“Yeah, a good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Jaskier’s sole response was some groaning, eventually bracing himself for the impact of light on his poor eyes. When he opened them, it didn’t feel any better than the first time, but now there was a witcher to be seen, sitting next to the fire. A witcher, who was smiling at him.

“Go ahead and mock me all you want,” Jaskier said, the pain throbbing away at the back of his head. “Just do it in a quiet voice.”

Instead of saying anything, Geralt just took the little kettle, which had been hanging over the fire, and poured some steaming liquid into a cup. A strong, pleasant herbal scent rose up from the cup, making Jaskier realize that this was the smell which had woken him. Geralt offered the cup to him, smile still in place.

“Uhm, thank you?” Jaskier said, as he took the cup from the witcher. He first eyed the greenish, golden liquid in the cup before he turned to eye Geralt. “What is this? Did you lace this with something or why are you smiling at me like that?”

Geralt huffed a small laugh before he said, “And again, you’re being silly. This will sooth your headache. Well, at least I thought that you might wake with a headache. So I went and searched for some painkilling herbs while you were still sleeping.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at Geralt. “That’s awfully nice of you, Geralt.” But when he took the first tiny sip of the steaming herbal tea, Jaskier actually thought that, yes, that had been indeed awfully nice of him. Jaskier started humming appreciatively as he continued taking small sips of the tea, the warmth of the liquid starting to spread through his body. He already felt his mood lifting even though the headache would probably take some time to disappear.

“Thank you, Geralt,” Jaskier said, giving the witcher a soft smile.

Then something quite unusual happened. Whilst Jaskier was looking at Geralt, Geralt’s cheeks started to tinge a soft shade of pink and he averted his gaze, nervously scratching at the white stubble covering his chin.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled, still not meeting Jaskier’s eyes.

If Jaskier had been drinking at that moment, he probably would have choked on his tea. Did Geralt just blush? No, that couldn’t be. In all the time he’d known the witcher, Jaskier had never seen Geralt blush before. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure if he was even capable of blushing. Or, to put it differently, Jaskier wasn’t sure if there existed anything on this continent which was capable of making Geralt blush. Yet here they were. And, if Jaskier dared to name it like that, he couldn’t help but think that Geralt seemed a little bashful right now.

“Uhm,” Jaskier said, at a lack for better words. “Geralt, please forgive me asking this bluntly, but are you blushing?”

“Don’t be stupid, Jaskier,” Geralt laughed, which sounded rather nervous to Jaskier. “I’m not blushing. Why would I be blushing? I mean, there’s no need for me to blush when you smile at me like that, right?”

There was a short beat of silence. Both of them were staring at each other with equally bewildered expressions.

“Fuck!” Geralt cursed as he almost jumped up from where he had been sitting, the pink tinge on his cheeks now turning into a full-blown blush. “Forget what I just said! I mean, no, don’t forget it because I like it when you smile like that, but – “

Geralt cut himself off and pressed his lips tightly together. To Jaskier, he looked rather pained as he held the bard’s gaze, his blush still firmly in place. Jaskier stared back, his mouth slightly agape and probably a bit of red tinting his own cheeks. There had been only a handful of occasions on his travels with the witcher where Jaskier had been left speechless, but this was definitely one of them. Jaskier’s poor, hungover brain just couldn’t seem to catch up with the fact that Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, Witcher of Kaer Morhen, was standing in front of him, furiously blushing at the fact that he had just confessed to Jaskier that he liked his smiles.

When Jaskier was still just gaping after some beats of silence, Geralt started to shift nervously from one foot to the other. “Gods, Jaskier! Could you please say something and not just stare at me like I just grew a second head?”

“I – ” Jaskier tried. What was he going to say? ‘I also like the way you smile’? ‘I think you might still be drunk’? ‘Are you sure you’re not feeling sick or feverish, or something’? Damn, where had his usual eloquence gone?

“I think there was something in this tea after all. Are you sure you didn’t accidentally confuse the painkilling herbs with hallucinogenic ones? Because I could swear this feels like some trip to me.”

Jaskier then finally got up himself, wondering why his body had to feel this hungover even in a hallucination. He took a step closer to Geralt, now standing right in front of him. Geralt drew in a sharp breath when Jaskier reached out to touch him, first putting his hand on his shoulder then reaching up to touch his cheek. If possible, Geralt turned even redder at that.

“Damn, you don’t feel like a hallucination at all,” Jaskier said, now pinching Geralt’s cheek.

“That’s because I’m no goddamned hallucination!” Geralt said hoarsely as he slapped Jaskier’s hand away.

“Oh.”

A short beat of silence.

“Oh!” Jaskier exclaimed as he drew his hand back as if burned. Now it was his time to blush. If this wasn’t some kind of hallucination, then what was going on here? Suddenly Jaskier was very aware of the fact that they were standing rather close, both of them red faced and staring at each other. Jaskier felt his heartbeat pick up in speed, and Geralt could probably hear it, considering his enhanced hearing.

“Geralt, I’m so sorry,” Jaskier said quickly, wanting to bring some space between them, but his feet just wouldn’t budge a bit. “It seems like I’m just very confused and hungover.”

“That’s why I made you the tea,” Geralt said, in a quieter voice now. The two of them were still staring intensely at each other, and Jaskier noticed that his throat had gone impossibly dry, making him swallow heavily. Geralt’s eyes flicked down at the movement, and Jaskier could’ve sworn that they had lingered on his lips before Geralt met his eyes again. Oh god. Jaskier wasn’t ready for this.

“Right! The tea!” he exclaimed too loudly and rather awkwardly. “I almost forgot! We wouldn’t want it to turn cold, right?”

And like this he stepped away from the witcher and turned to pick up the kettle and his cup. His head once again started throbbing with pain as he bent over, causing him to immediately straighten his back with a hiss.

“Right, the tea,” Geralt breathed out, taking a step back of his own. “That’s right. I made the tea for you. Because you’re not feeling well.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

An awkward silence stretched between them as Jaskier pretended to be busy with drinking his tea.

“Uhm,” Geralt said after a while. “I’ll go check on the horses. Try to rest some more, Jaskier.”

“Fabulous idea!” Jaskier said, sounding a little too joyful to come across as natural. He then sat back down onto his bedroll, aiming for a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right here if, uh, something’s up.”

And like this, Geralt was gone. Jaskier felt all the air rushing from his lungs in one long exhale as he let himself fall back and stared at the sky. The sun was hanging high above him, it was probably well past noon by now.

Jaskier closed his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. What for the love of whatever gods, who might have been watching just now, had just happened? Jaskier was still waiting for his heartbeat to slow back to normal and for him to wake up. He almost couldn’t believe it, and if he hadn’t just witnessed it with his own eyes, probably wouldn’t have believed it. Yet here they were. Red faced and bashful like children playing in the marketplace. Could it be that Geralt…? Jaskier let the thought trail off, not finishing it. He probably wasn’t making any sense right now, anyway.

Suddenly Jaskier heard a muffled sound, like a voice reaching his ear from far away. Jaskier sat up straight and looked over to where Geralt was stroking Roach’s neck. Even if he was talking to his horse on the tiny meadow near the camp, Jaskier wouldn’t have been able to hear it from where he was sitting. Then again, the sound of a muffled voice. This time, Jaskier could make out the direction where it was coming from and strangely enough it seemed like the source of the noise were their saddlebags. With his brow furrowed in confusion, Jaskier went over to the saddlebags and started rummaging around until he heard the voice coming from the depths of one of Geralt’s bags.

“What the – ” he said as he produced what seemed to be a palm-sized, round box from the saddlebag.

“Geralt?” a female voice coming from the box suddenly asked. Jaskier dropped the thing with a yelp.

“Oh, it’s you, little bard.”

“Keira? Is that you?” Jaskier asked warily as he picked the box back up from the ground. He started turning it in his hands. It was covered in tiny carvings and appeared to be massive, not having a lid or something to be opened.

“No, it’s your mother. Of course, it’s me!”

“What is this thing?” Jaskier asked then, ignoring her remark as he still searched for a tiny crack or something to open the box and see what kind of magic could be found inside.

“It’s a xenovox. It’s a handy, little bauble which allows us to speak over some distance,” the sorceress’ voice explained from the box.

“A what?”

“You’re adorable when you’re utterly clueless, but it really doesn’t matter. I didn’t call to explain magic to you.”

“Aaalright,” Jaskier said, still staring as if Keira might appear from the little box at any moment. “Then why did you call?”

“Oh, you know, I just wanted to check up on you guys, wanted to ask whether you’re doing good. Just things an old friend does.”

“We’ve last seen each other yesterday evening,” Jaskier said flatly. “What should have changed in the course over a night?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe there are some happy announcements to be made?”

“What kind of happy announcements?” Jaskier asked, growing a bit impatient. “What are you talking about? Or are you just as hungover as me and not making any sense right now? Like this whole goddamned morning didn’t make any sense.”

“Oho,” came the voice from the box, now perked with interest. “What exactly didn’t make any sense?”

“Ugh, you know…” Jaskier trailed off, casting a glance to the witcher, who was still busying himself with stroking his mare’s neck. A faint blush once again started to bloom on Jaskier’s cheeks. “Wait! Why would I even tell you? We hardly know each other!”

“Because I asked nicely? Come on, don’t treat me like a total stranger, we’ve spent a lovely evening together!”

Jaskier sighed deeply before he eventually said, “Fine, if you absolutely _must_ know. Geralt has been acting…strange.”

“Strange? What do you mean by strange? Come on, little bard, where did all your fancy words go?” Now Keira was the one to sound impatient.

“Strange, like, smiling and blushing and, and – Why am I even telling you this?” Jaskier huffed, not feeling like he wanted to share what had happened between Geralt and him with the sorceress.

“Wait, that’s all? Some smiling and blushing? And what about last night? Didn’t you guys go to town?”

Jaskier furrowed his brow and said, a little confused, “No, we didn’t go to town? I mean, it was already getting late, and we didn’t want to ride on to Oxenfurt, so we just set up camp along the road.”

A beat of silence passed between them before the sorceress snorted, “Jaskier, for being a bard you take a metaphor awfully literally. I didn’t ask whether you guys rode on to the next town, I asked whether you guys got into each other’s pants.”

“Excuse me?!” Jaskier’s voice cracked, turning out embarrassingly high pitched. He shot a quick glance to Geralt, making sure that he hadn’t been heard, and then turned back to staring indignantly at the box. He decided to wander a little away from their camp because Jaskier felt like this would be the kind of conversation which he really didn’t want Geralt to overhear.

“So, nothing happened? _Nothing_? No touching, no groping, not even some making out?”

Right now, Jaskier’s face looked like somebody had set it on fire.

“That’s strange,” the sorceress continued then. “I could’ve sworn… Oh but maybe I underestimated the dose I needed to completely sway a witcher. Damn, those big, gruff guys and their stupid mutagenes.”

“For the love of the gods,” Jaskier finally managed to get out, “what are you talking about??”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the sorceress’ voice rang flatly from the box. “A witcher with his senses heightened to the absolute maximum and a bard that sings about love day in and out, both dense as bricks. But you see, since I am not blind for what is glaringly obvious, or maybe just because I am a woman in general and _talk_ to people, I decided to help the two of you put two and two together. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure things out in the end.”

Jaskier wasn’t quite following.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite following.”

“Let me put it differently then: I may or may not have put something into Geralt’s wine which should let him act in a way that should set your heart aflutter, little bard. And no, don’t deny it, I saw the way you were looking at him, you stupid lovesick puppy.”

Jaskier’s eyes grew wide as saucers and there was a beat of silence.

“So you are telling me,” Jaskier eventually said very slowly, “that you laced Geralt’s drink with a love potion?”

“I knew you were a smart one.”

“Oh gods.”

“No need to thank me.”

“This is horrible.”

“I knew you would be delighted. Now you can go and kiss your witcher, or something.”

“Kiss him?!” Jaskier exclaimed, his thoughts racing. “Are you out of your mind? I can’t just go and _kiss him_!”

“Now I’m afraid that I am not quite following.”

Jaskier groaned, casting a frantic hand through his hair as he started to pace up and down, fallen branches from the trees snapping under the soles of his boots. “This is bad. Really bad. Yes, you’re right, I have feelings for Geralt, and yes, I would very much like to kiss him. I’ve actually wanted to for a long time. But not like this! I can’t just take advantage of this situation if Geralt’s ‘feelings’ are clearly just results of this potion.”

“Hold on a minute – ”

“This is an absolute disaster. So, tell me how to undo the effects of the potion, right now!”

At first, there didn’t come any answer from Keira, and for a brief moment of horror Jaskier thought that she might have hung up on him. But then her voice once again rang from the box, sounding clearly annoyed.

“First of all, I won’t let myself be ordered around like that. Second of all, there’s no reason to undo it.”

“What do you mean, no reason?”

“The potion is going to wear off in a few days anyway, so no need to concern yourself with trying to remedy it.”

“A few days?!”

“Yes, I figured you might need a little more time.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier eventually said. He had totally picked up saying that from Geralt.

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head too much about it. Everything’s going to be fine. And now let me give you two last pieces of advice: Don’t try to tell Geralt about the potion. At his current state he’s totally convinced about his feelings and won’t believe you anyway. You would also need to tell Geralt about your feelings for him, since I used a potion which only works when the person who is supposed to receive the affections, who is you, also has feelings for the person who drank the potion, who is Geralt. Feelings which you clearly have, but probably don’t want to tell him about. And secondly, please try not to break his heart. That might actually have quite negative effects with the potion still working on him. That’s about it. Now go have fun! And, Jaskier? Don’t try to call me back, a xenovox only works one way.”

And like this, the sorceress’ voice died down, leaving Jaskier gaping and blinking rapidly at the box.

“Nooo, no, no, no, no!” Jaskier said as he frantically twisted the box in his hands. “Please come back!” But after some fruitless attempts to get the box speaking again, Jaskier groaned in exasperation.

“Mistress of magic, my ass! More like mistresses of mischief, the whole lot of you!”

Jaskier was now pacing up and down again, cursing under his breath and _this_ close to just throwing the cursed box on the ground, hoping it would shatter into a million of pieces. But the box wasn’t his. And it probably wouldn’t shatter.

Jaskier stopped pacing and cast a glance in the direction of the camp before he looked miserably at the box in his hand. All the air rushed from his lungs with one single word: “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keira might have actually lied about a thing or two, which she told Jaskier. But who could know?
> 
> Thank you once again for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! :))  
> See you next week, and stay safe!


	3. Chapter 3

When Jaskier finally returned to their camp, he had done a whole lot of thinking, panicking and cursing. Not necessarily in that order, but still. And all of his thinking had ultimately led him to the conclusion that he was fucked. Because no matter how he looked at it, he would need to silently endure having an enamored witcher on his hands without making a move on him for their current relationship to survive this whole situation.

Yes, that was the conclusion he’d arrived at. But if Jaskier was being completely honest with himself, he had to admit that a dark part of himself had also been thrilled by the thought of Geralt having feelings for him now. If Jaskier wanted to, he would finally be able to have the kind of relationship with the witcher he only ever had dared to dream about fleetingly, fearing that there would be only pain if he got too lost in what could but never would be. But Jaskier just couldn’t. It would feel too wrong in too many ways for Jaskier to believe that it was right. No, it definitely wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Because after a few days Geralt would wake up from this fever dream and he would never forgive Jaskier for what he had done. How could he? Jaskier wouldn’t even forgive himself if he took advantage of Geralt so shamelessly. After all, it wouldn’t be Geralt who would want any of Jaskier, it would be the potion.

So Jaskier had signed himself off to enduring and suffering, like the noble bard he was deep down at his heart. This decision also came with the conclusion that Jaskier couldn’t tell Geralt about the potion. Because in order to explain this whole mess to Geralt, Keira had said that Jaskier would also need to admit that the potion could have only worked because of Jaskier’s feelings for Geralt. And Jaskier really couldn’t admit what he was feeling for the witcher right now. Because if he told him with the potion’s effects still in action, Geralt would probably be all over him and Jaskier wished to avoid just that. Well, at least until Geralt was back to his normal senses.

Sure, he could also try to lie about how the potion worked if Geralt came up with questioning it. But problem was, Jaskier was really, really bad at lying to Geralt under pressure. Even though people might expect him to be quite the extraordinary liar, assuming his eloquence and attitude, which came with being a bard, might come in rather handy. And truth be told, Jaskier actually _was_ quite talented at pulling the wool over people’s eyes. Just not when it came to pulling it over Geralt’s.

 _Or at least not when it comes to big lies_ , Jaskier thought, deciding that he was better off not taking any risks right now.

But the biggest problem that would come with mentioning the potion was that the chances of hurting Geralt while explaining why Jaskier didn’t want to be with him were rather high. And Keira explicitly told him not to break Geralt’s heart. Because, what could he tell Geralt?

‘I’m really sorry, but I can’t be with you because I’m really into you’? – Wouldn’t make any sense to a person who is high on a love potion and would very likely lead up to either very unfortunate or very fortunate, depending on how one wished to interpret it, results.

‘I’m really sorry, but I can’t be with you because I’m not really into you’? – On the rather hurtful side and also a lie. And Jaskier felt like he really didn’t have the heart to lie to Geralt about what he felt for him. Not after all this time he’d been imagining how he would tell him, how he would weigh all the words carefully and choose them meticulously. It would feel like betrayal. Not only of Geralt but also of himself.

So at some point, his thoughts had just started tangling themselves, leaving him with a new headache, which could have rivaled his hungover one. That’s why Jaskier had just stopped trying to figure out how to tell Geralt about the potion and the messed-up situation they were in. Because ultimately it seemed like pretending that nothing had happened and acting like he didn’t get Geralt’s advances was the best possible solution to this mess.

So Jaskier would need to endure. Unless he found a way of quitting the potion’s effects. Which was exactly what he was going to do.

After he had arrived at that conclusion, Jaskier returned from where he had wandered off into the woods. When he got back to their little camp, he found Geralt sitting by the fire, looking a bit lost.

“I take it that you’ve finished horse whispering for the time being?” Jaskier asked nonchalantly as he headed for the saddlebags to return the xenovox to its rightful place.

“Jaskier!” Geralt said, a hint of relief to be heard in his voice. “You’re back.”

Jaskier huffed half of a laugh as he put the box back into the saddlebag. “Your observational skills are as impressive as ever. But where should I have disappeared to?”

Geralt took a moment to answer, staring into the fire in the middle of their little setup. It was already beginning to die down again. “I thought that after earlier… No, nevermind.”

 _Stupid witcher_ , Jaskier thought, _I’m gone for a couple of minutes, and he thinks I left him_.

Jaskier felt actually a little offended that Geralt thought he would leave just like that. But at the same time, he also thought it was cute that Geralt was afraid of Jaskier being gone. Well, just a little bit cute.

“Geralt, please,” Jaskier said as he sat down across from Geralt, the fire crackling between them. “You weren’t able to get rid of me when you were trying, very hard I might add, to achieve just that the first time we met. So why do you think you would be able to get rid of me now?”

“Right,” Geralt said, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips. Jaskier’s heart did a funny flip at the sight.

“I’m glad I wasn’t able to get rid of you back then, Jaskier,” Geralt admitted, his eyes soft. But then they took on a playful glitter as Geralt continued, “I mean, travelling would have been so dreadfully boring without a certain someone, who would always get into trouble and would need rescuing afterwards.”

“I’m glad you finally show some appreciation for my heroically rescuing your troubled posterior on multiple occasions,” Jaskier shot back with a sly smile. He felt himself becoming gradually more at ease after working himself up so much back in the forest. Because bantering with Geralt felt _easy_ , something he was most familiar and comfortable with. If things stayed like this between them, Jaskier could almost believe that this whole love potion affair would be over without him remembering that anything had happened at all.

“Jaskier?”

But sooner or later something was just _bound_ to happen.

“Yes Geralt?”

“I was wondering why exactly you disappeared into the woods with the xenovox from my saddlebags.”

“Ah, yes,” Jaskier responded like the eloquent troubadour he was. “I did that.”

“Yes, you did that.”

“Must seem rather curious to you.”

“If you want to phrase it like that.”

Jaskier let some beats of silence pass between them, hoping that Geralt would drop the subject. But something in Geralt’s eyes just told him that he wouldn’t let Jaskier off the hook that easily.

“Cause curious it was, indeed,” Jaskier continued then, aiming for a lighthearted tone of voice, his thoughts racing themselves to be the next words which would be coming from his mouth. “You see, I heard this strange sound, when you were still busy telling Roach what a good girl she is, coming from the saddlebags. And then, before I was even realizing what was happening, I was having a, uh, _nice_ chat with our enchantress friend Keira Metz.”

“Oh really.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jaskier and Geralt were staring at each other. Jaskier was probably looking like he wished to end that conversation right then and there, and Geralt was most definitely looking like he expected him to continue that conversation right here and now. When nothing was happening, Geralt said in an amused voice, “Short for words? That’s rare. But please do continue Jaskier, I’m hung up on your every word.”

“Oh, there isn’t much else to tell, really,” Jaskier said, as he hoped, nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders like he was telling uninteresting news and not like he was wracking his brain for things to say to keep up sounding nonchalant. “We made some small talk, reminisced about yesterday evening, I took a little walk to stretch my legs… Nothing interesting, really.”

Geralt hummed at that, smiling a smile which almost seemed like he was teasing. Apparently Geralt seemed to enjoy seeing the bard, who usually prided himself for his eloquence and mastery of words, struggling right in front of him to master said words. But Jaskier knew he had to change the topic rather now than later before he would say something stupid. Or maybe… Maybe Jaskier should say something stupid.

“But, you know? It’s a real shame she called just when you were about to horse whisper. Would’ve liked to see that.”

Geralt raised a quizzical brow at him. “And why is that so?”

“Because you look devilishly handsome while doing it.”

That was, in fact, the truth. When Geralt was taking care of Roach, he seemed genuinely relaxed, his eyes soft and a private smile gracing his lips, which wasn’t meant for anyone’s eyes to be seen. Just, like Jaskier said, utterly beautiful. And those words of truth had quite the impressive effect on the witcher. Geralt was staring at Jaskier, his eyes a little widened as if in disbelief, as if the words hadn’t fully sunken in just yet. But when they did, Jaskier was able to tell the exact moment when Geralt realized that Jaskier had just called him ‘devilishly handsome’.

At first, nothing happened. But then slowly and very elegantly Geralt’s cheeks started to turn a lovely shade of pink, which was soon replaced by a dazzling, fiery red. Jaskier had to admit that he was more than pleased with the effects his words were having on the witcher. And when he noticed that also the very tips of Geralt’s ears had turned a distinct rose colour, Jaskier felt his stomach starting to perform funny exercises, his heart skipping along.

 _Goddammit_ , Jaskier thought, tearing his eyes away to stare into the glowing embers of the fire. That really had been an unnecessarily provocative, stupid idea. Sure, it had made for a great distraction from his conversation with Keira, but what if he had triggered the potion’s effects too much and Geralt would – Oh, nonono, better not start daydreaming now. He better came up with something to say real quick before this situation would take on a ‘regrettable’ turn.

“Sooo, Geralt!” he said, as he hoped, amicably, flashing the witcher a smile. “You know what I’ve been asking myself? I’ve been wondering why exactly you’d keep such a weird box on Roach. That eager on being called and harassed by sorceresses?”

Geralt was looking at Jaskier, apparently trying to will down his blush, and it almost seemed like he was rebooting, slightly shaking his head. Jaskier was quite relieved to see Geralt’s eyes becoming more lucid and less, well, moonstruck even though he had to admit that it was quite the look on the witcher. Jaskier also made a mental note that he should test the boundaries of the potion’s effects at some point, like what he would be able to get away with and what would turn Geralt into a lovesick mess.

“Actually, I can’t just be called by any sorceress,” Geralt replied, apparently content on not commenting on Jaskier’s earlier, stupid remark. “Keira gave the xenovox to me herself, and she is also the only one who’s able to call me with it.”

“Really? Why would you carry something like that around with you?”

“She gave it to me when she also gave me the magic lamp, and back then I also meant to return it to her with the lamp. But it seems like I completely forgot about it. Never used it afterwards anyway.”

Jaskier’s ears pricked up at that. Could that be his chance?

“Oh really?” he said, his thoughts racing. “How unfortunate! But you know what?”

Jaskier made a short break, carefully choosing his next words. “I say that we return it to her now, don’t you think? We’re still close to her home, and we don’t really need to be anywhere any time soon.”

This was perfect, just perfect, really. If he was able to convince Geralt of returning to the sorceress in a, thanks to the xenovox, conveniently subtle way, he would be able to face the mischievous enchantress and get her to undo the effects of the potion herself.

“It would also mean lighter saddlebags for Roach, right?”

 _Please, Gods, if not for anything else, let him do it for Roach_ , Jaskier silently prayed.

“You’re right. Seems like a good enough time to get that thing off my hands.”

 _Yes!_ Jaskier silently cheered. _You always get that big, old softie with his horse._

“Then that’s that,” Jaskier said, mightily pleased with himself. “So, I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

Geralt got up and took the little kettle, which was standing near to the fire, and poured its remaining contents into the meager flames of the dying fire, finishing it off.

“There’s no use in wasting away the remaining daylight, right?”

\------

“What do you mean the path is gone?!”

“It’s a magic path, Jaskier,” Geralt explained, getting up from where he had been crouching, looking at their own tracks they left on their way to the sorceress the day before. “Sometimes it’s there, sometimes it’s not. It’s up to Keira to decide if she wants people to find it or not. And apparently she’s not taking any visitors right now or she’s gotten herself into trouble.”

 _Oh yes, in trouble she is_ , Jaskier thought angrily, his foot tapping away impatiently.

Geralt and he had broken camp efficiently, had packed up their things and had been back on horseback in no time. Then they had set off the way they had come from yesterday evening, riding in comfortable silence. Jaskier had already thought himself victorious, thought that this whole love potion deal would be over soon. He had no idea how wrong he was.

“But don’t you remember the way?” Jaskier asked, tearing his eyes away from the forest, where he had been searching for any signs of a trail. “I mean, with your witcher senses, and stuff.”

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier, that’s not how magic works. If Keira doesn’t want to be visited or found, we won’t be able to find her. It’s as simple as that.”

Jaskier started cursing under his breath, once more fixing his eyes on the thicket of the forest, foolishly believing he would be able to spot something that would give the trail away.

Geralt sighed again. “Come on Jaskier, drop it. It’s not worth the effort.”

“Alright, alright,” he huffed, throwing his hands up in defeat. He knew that finding that path would be well worth his efforts, but Geralt wasn’t supposed to find out about any of that. So, what now?

 _Okay, think_ , he ordered himself, starting to pace in front of their horses. _I need someone who’s able to undo a love potion, or knows someone who’s able to, and who would be available quickly. Quickly… Oxenfurt isn’t far from here, but –_

Then Jaskier had an idea.

“Oh, I know what to do now!”

Geralt had been watching him with funny eyes, raising a brow at his exclamation. “Jaskier?”

“Do you know what I think we should do, Geralt? I think we should absolutely visit the city of Oxenfurt!”

Geralt huffed out a laugh. “Look at you going from all huffy to overexcited. May I ask what the cause of such excitement might be?”

“Oh, you know,” Jaskier said in high spirits now, already mounting his horse. “I just remembered that there’s someone in Oxenfurt I absolutely _must_ visit when we’re this close to the city already.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I see,” Geralt said, his tone of voice completely changed. Jaskier stopped fiddling with his horse’s reins at that and looked at the witcher. Geralt had just sounded rather sulky and his gaze was averted from the bard, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What?” Jaskier asked, his brows drawn together.

“Oh nothing,” Geralt retorted, pulling himself into Roach’s saddle. “I just can’t _wait_ to meet that super special someone of yours.”

Geralt then pressed a heel into Roach’s side, taking of at a trot and leaving the poet behind. Jaskier stared dumbfoundedly at the witcher’s retreating back. Well, that had been something. And if Jaskier wasn’t completely mistaken, he would have called Geralt’s behaviour totally, well, jealous.

Realizing that he was still just staring, Jaskier finally pressed his own legs into the sides of his horse, spurring it on to catch up with Geralt. They rode next to each other in uncomfortable silence at first, because Jaskier really didn’t know what to say to sooth a jealous witcher. From time to time, he was shooting sideways glances at Geralt as if the witcher’s features would hold the perfect words for Jaskier to say.

 _You can’t just say nothing!_ Jaskier told himself. _What if I hurt him? Damn, I’m not supposed to hurt him._

“Geralt, you know,” Jaskier eventually said, hoping he would come up with something good in the course of the next sentence. “That’s not the only reason I want to ride to Oxenfurt.”

“Oh, really?” Geralt huffed, not looking at Jaskier.

“Yes, really,” he said softly, looking at Geralt’s profile. Jaskier would have never thought that someday he would be the reason for Geralt being jealous. Yet here they were.

“I also want to show you something.”

“Really?” Geralt asked, his tone of voice also turning softer now.

“Yes, really. And I think, or well I _hope_ , that you will quite enjoy it.”

Geralt only hummed in response and Jaskier noticed that a very small smile was now playing around the corners of his lips. Jaskier sighed an inner sigh of relief. The air between them had considerably changed, and Jaskier felt himself relax into their shared silence once more.

 _Well_ , Jaskier thought, _off to Oxenfurt we go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter and that you’re looking forward to Geralt and Jaskier going to Oxenfurt! It’s going to be a lot of fun! (I hope)
> 
> I’d also be delighted if you told me how you liked it so far and what you’re thinking! :)
> 
> Also sorry about the delay, but real life responsibilities were just piling up the last two weeks, and they are going to keep piling in the coming weeks as well, so you might need to be a little patient with me…


	4. Chapter 4

Jaskier turned his face into the sun and took a deep breath, inhaling the salty scent reaching him from the harbour. It was a beautiful day in Oxenfurt – Oxenfurt with its wooden, beautiful roofs, its wonderfully buoyant taverns and inns, its workshops, stalls and marketplaces where one was able to purchase anything from the finest Cintrian laces to the most terrifying Zerrikanian sabres. Truly, the city was just like Jaskier remembered it from his last visit for it was still bustling with life, filled with laughter and voices, vibrating with chances yet to be uncovered. Here, it felt like you could win over the entire world in the course of one day, or loose it if Fortune wasn’t smiling upon you. Ah, yes, Jaskier had been missing this sense of excitement hanging in the air, the feeling of being able to do just anything he wanted.

“If this isn’t the smell of chances and opportunities hanging in the air, then I don’t know. Oh, how much I’ve been missing this place!” Jaskier beamed, plugging a happy melody on his lute.

“I wouldn’t know what chances and opportunities smell like, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not the stench wafting up from the sewers,” Geralt stated, sounding amused.

Geralt and he had arrived at the city gates yesterday evening and had themselves checked in at the Three Little Bells inn. The inn wasn’t by far the most famous or fanciest inn in Oxenfurt, but Jaskier was very fond of it as he connected it with many nostalgic memories: Back in his days as a student at the academy, Jaskier had always immensely enjoyed the one special thing about the inn which was its own adjoining dance hall, where many a night joyful music had been played and people had come together to dance and make merry. This was still the case up to the present day, and Jaskier was secretly hoping on maybe joining the minstrels on one evening of their stay at the inn, just like he had done when he was a student.

They had left their horses at the stable of the inn, where Geralt, already upon their arrival, had made painstakingly clear that if anything was to happen to his horse, the responsible stablehand was going to regret it deeply. Jaskier had stood by a little embarrassed but also feeling sorry for the poor stablehand. No one wanted to be threatened by a witcher, especially not in a dark and remote stable where a witcher’s eyes would shine like a cat’s which was ready to leap. Afterwards, Jaskier had reprimanded Geralt for downright scaring the colour out of the boy’s face and told him that this wasn’t some kind of shady tavern where horses would ‘get stolen’ at night in favour of making a quick penny.

Now, on the next morning and after a moderate breakfast, they were making their way through the already bustling streets. And since Jaskier was in a good mood and had brought along his trusty instrument, he was playing them a cheerful tune while they were making their way towards the academy.

Yes, Jaskier was in a very good mood, not only because he loved Oxenfurt, but also because he was soon going to find the person he had set his hopes in on freeing Geralt from the grip of the love potion, which effects had clearly not worn off yet hence the enamored look and smile Geralt was giving him while he was playing the lute and Geralt thought he wouldn’t catch him staring. Which Jaskier of course did, much to his own regret as that wonderfully enamored expression of his usually stoic witcher set his heart aflutter.

“So, this person,” Geralt said, schooling his expression back to a witcher-y level of emotional display. “We’ll find him at the academy? Who might he be? Some kind of former professor of yours?”

“Yes, we’ll find _her_ somewhere on the academy grounds,” Jaskier answered, stopping his play and turning the lute around on its strap to rest against his back. “She’s a medical student and an old friend of mine. Well, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m actually not so sure whether she’s still studying or has already finished her studies. But, you know, since the medical studies take an awful amount of time to finish, I’m just hoping on getting lucky and finding her.”

Geralt hummed lowly at his words, not looking at the bard. Jaskier was studying his expression out of the corner of his eye, trying the impossible by hoping to find something that would give away the witcher’s thoughts. Or at least he hoped not to find any signs of Geralt being as upset as the first time Jaskier had suggested they rode to Oxenfurt to visit someone.

“That friend of yours.”

But Jaskier probably shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“She’s…just a friend?”

“I can assure you that she’s indeed just a friend.”

A moment of silence. Geralt was looking at him.

“Not one of those friends of yours whom you also happened to spend one or two nights with?”

At that, Jaskier cleared his throat discreetly before saying, “Now you’re just making assumptions. But yes, she’s not one of those friends. Besides, I would’ve never really much piqued her interest as she has quite distinct preferences. Preferences, which usually come with pretty eyes and an ample bosom.”

Geralt didn’t respond to that, he just nodded his head in acknowledgement and gave another low hum. This time, it sounded pleased.

“Also,” Jaskier continued, wishing to give Geralt more reason to be pleased and stop thinking about his alleged relationship with his friend, “I said that I wished to show you something.”

On their ride to Oxenfurt, Jaskier had had quite some time to come up with something that he could show to Geralt, something which, Jaskier hoped, was sure to please him. And like the crafty genius he was, he had come up with the perfect idea, just like he had actually _planned_ right from the very start to take Geralt to Oxenfurt to show him this particular place.

“Yes, you said that,” Geralt agreed, shooting Jaskier an amused look.

“And, coincidentally, this exact same thing happens to also be on the academy grounds.”

“At the academy? What, are you going to show me some ancient tomes filled with monster studies?”

“Oh please,” Jaskier laughed, shooting Geralt a mocking grin, “as if you barbaric witchers were able to read.”

At that, Geralt also snorted a laugh. He looked at Jaskier, a private, little smile curling the corners of his lips and his eyes seemed to gleam with something Jaskier couldn’t quite put a name to.

“Right, I’m so glad to have my smart, literate bard with me who would read the contracts for this poor, old witcher,” Geralt replied playfully, bumping shoulders with Jaskier. And then, Geralt just stayed like that. Instead of stepping back to bring more space between them, Geralt kept on walking right next to Jaskier, their shoulders still brushing.

Jaskier’s smart reply died right on his tongue, his mouth snapping shut with a clink. He swallowed but didn’t dare to look over to the witcher for Jaskier was afraid that his expression would betray him. Would betray how his heartbeat picked up in pace, how his palms started to get sweaty, how he had to swallow nervously to wet his mouth, which had gone very dry quite suddenly. To put it simply, Jaskier didn’t want to betray how his body was reacting to this simple act of closeness like he was a swooning maiden in anticipation of getting her hand kissed by the gentleman she was fancying. And even though Geralt _was_ the gentleman Jaskier was fancying, he couldn’t let that be known to him.

And then suddenly, as if accidentally, Geralt’s hand brushed against his, a soft and gentle touch which send a shiver down Jaskier’s spine. Unfortunately, and without thinking, Jaskier had already jerked his hand away as if burnt, absolutely startled out of his racing thoughts by the unexpected touch. Jaskier’s heart was beating in his throat as he and Geralt were staring at each other, both of them turning red as cloister girls and deliberately bringing some space between them. Yes, space was good. Space meant safety.

Apparently Geralt had been thinking the same because now he ‘casually’ clasped his hands behind his back, well out of reach, and pretended to be staring at the shops and their display windows. But as the windows they were currently passing only displayed women’s fashion, Geralt jerked his eyes back to the road, now seemingly fascinated by the pattern of the cobble stone pavement. If Jaskier wasn’t mistaken then the blush riding high on Geralt’s usually pale cheeks had turned even darker.

 _I swear to the gods,_ Jaskier thought as he tried to will his heart to slow down its ridiculous attempts to jump out of his chest, _if this keeps on for much longer, I’m going to die of a heart attack caused by a witcher trying to hold my hand. Oh, what a ballad that would be._

Like this, they kept on walking in silence, their faces still displaying varying states of embarrassment. Jaskier was sure that they must make quite the pair, which was proven by a young-looking woman passing them, staring at the still red faced witcher like she was staring at a striga in a ballroom dress. And it probably would have been all the same as coming across a blushing witcher might have been just as likely as coming across a striga in a ballroom dress. But the striga, unlike Geralt, definitely wouldn’t have made for such a pleasant sight.

After the woman had passed them, her eyes still glued to Geralt, Jaskier could hear a sound like two things bumping into each other and an angered voice calling, “Look out where you’re going, you stupid wench!”

But fortunately, they didn’t have to walk on for much longer after that because soon enough the academy gates were greeting them in all their years old glory: The red roofs of Oxenfurt Academy were shining in the sunlight above a large courtyard leading up to the main entrance of the complex of academy buildings. Adjacent to the courtyard were the academy gardens, where Jaskier had spent a great deal of his free time as a student musing and thinking and composing and playing.

As Geralt and he stepped through the academy gates and entered the courtyard, they were greeted by the busy picture of bustling students, who were standing in groups and chatting, making haste to get to their next class on time or were just enjoying the nice weather sitting or lying on one of the benches which were lining the courtyard’s verges. Jaskier felt himself brightening up by returning to this familiar picture, shaking off any remaining traces of embarrassment and turned to Geralt with a fresh sense of self-confidence.

“My highly esteemed Master Witcher,” he said, mimicking a courtly announcer, “I may present to you the Academy of Oxenfurt!”

As Geralt saw Jaskier easing back into a familiarly playful air, Geralt also seemingly relaxed into the conversation. “Very well, so what’s next?”

“Well, I guess I’m just going in and start searching.”

“That’s your plan? Us just searching the entire academy until we find your friend in this hubbub?”

“Actually, it’s just going to be me searching for her,” Jaskier admitted, already bracing himself for Geralt’s protests.

“What? Why?” Geralt asked, his brows drawing together questioningly.

“You see,” Jaskier said, reaching over to flick the hilt of the steel sword which was sticking out above Geralt’s left shoulder, “since your appearance of tall, dark and menacing is so wonderfully underlined by the sword strapped to your back, of which I haven’t been able to convince you to leave it at the inn, I’m afraid that you may draw a bit too much attention to ourselves while we’re roaming the academy. And searching technically shouldn’t be a problem, but we still really don’t want it to turn into one.”

“But you know that I couldn’t just have left my sword at the inn, Jaskier. A witcher without a sword is like a – a man without clothing!”

“Naked?”

“Exactly. And anyways, you also brought your lute,” Geralt argued, crossing his arms over his chest. Jaskier blinked his eyes at him several times, caught quite off guard by this display of behaviour. Apparently, the love potion had a side effect of letting witchers act like petulant children if they weren’t allowed to have their way.

“Great analogy you got going on there, really,” Jaskier said after he had regained his composure, now trying to pacify the pouting witcher. “But it’s not quite the same whether you carry a sword or a lute on your back, and it also makes a difference if the sword is being carried by a leather clad, scowling witcher and the lute is being carried by a bard who looks to all the world like he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Then I’ll carry the lute and you the sword.”

“Oh my god,” Jaskier blurted at that, knowing perfectly well that that was a horrible idea. “You know that it would be absolutely _ridiculous_ if I carried your deadly looking witcher sword and you carried my elven lute. Actually, it would be even worse than us just walking in like this. So please, just wait for me for a short while here outside, and I promise that I’ll be back before you even notice that I was gone!”

Geralt let a sigh escape his lips, dropping his arms from his chest to let them hang at his sides. And for a short moment it seemed like Geralt wanted to reach out and take Jaskier’s hand into his, but ultimately decided against it with another sigh. “I just want to be with you, Jaskier.”

At those words, Jaskier’s chest started to feel tight, too tight, and he was overcome by the desperate urge to throw all cautions to the wind and just reach out for Geralt’s hand like Geralt had wanted to do before. Because those words sounded like they meant so much more than Geralt just wanting to join Jaskier on his search. And it broke Jaskier’s heart that he couldn’t reply to them the way he wanted to.

So instead, he just did what he felt like he could allow himself to do: He reached out and hesitantly, but also very gently, took Geralt’s hand, their fingers touching so lightly that one might have mistook the sensation for sheer imagination. What Jaskier definitely wasn’t imaging was his heart pounding hard against his ribcage, making him afraid that either his heart or his ribs were going to take some damage from the impact.

“I won’t be long, Geralt,” he mumbled, not quite managing to look Geralt in the eye with him still holding the witcher’s hand. “Really, I won’t even need to search the entire academy. You know, medical students tend to frequent certain places and I already know where I’ll start searching.”

For a moment there didn’t come any answer from Geralt, and Jaskier already started to worry that he might have said or done something wrong. But as he looked up to meet Geralt’s eyes, he found that Geralt was just looking at their barely interlaced fingers, his eyes wide and soft, so incredibly soft. Jaskier’s breath hitched at the sight.

“Alright,” Geralt eventually said, not taking his eyes from their hands. “I’ll be waiting here.”

Then he looked up to meet Jaskier’s gaze as he continued, “But, please, don’t take too long. All these chattering, awfully cheerful students are already starting to make me feel antsy, and I guarantee that an antsy witcher amongst a herd of youngsters isn’t a good thing.”

“Yes – Yes, of course!” Jaskier said, quite relieved as he gave Geralt’s hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “Like I said, I’ll be back in no time!”

“And Geralt?” Jaskier added as he had already turned to make his way towards the entrance of the main building. “Not that I’m suggesting anything over here, but _please_ try to be nice and don’t get into trouble.”

“I won’t guarantee anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray, they made it to Oxenfurt Academy! But who might that person be Jaskier wants to meet?? Will she be able to help him? And will we ever get to know what a striga in a ballroom dress looks like?? So many questions, but only some will be answered in the next chapter!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the beginning of Jaskier’s and Geralt’s little Oxenfurt adventure and would be delighted if you let me know what you’re thinking! Also, I concluded from the comments on the last chapter that most of you really seem to enjoy blushing Geralt, so here’s a fun fact:
> 
> In the original books by Andrzej Sapkowski it literally says that Geralt cannot blush due to a mutation of his blood vessels. Okay, that’s not really a fun fact, more like a disappointment fact, but I thought that it was kinda interesting and thought that some of you guys would think so too :) But rest assured, this knowledge won’t change the fact that Geralt’s blushing game is still going to be strong in this fic.
> 
> Anyways, thank you guys so much for your love, kudos and feedback so far, it really makes me incredibly happy!!


	5. Chapter 5

In retrospect, Jaskier wasn’t so sure whether leaving Geralt alone in the courtyard of the academy had been a better idea than just taking him with him. Because who would know what a witcher, high on a love potion and separated from his beloved bard, would be up to if left unsupervised? Not that Jaskier thought that anything would happen, but he still felt a little uneasy as he entered the academy’s main building, shooting one last glance in Geralt’s direction.

_It’s going to be fine_ , Jaskier told himself as he entered and made his way over to the impressive set of stairs on the left side of the entrance hall. _He’s a big boy, nothing will happen if I’m gone for only a couple of minutes._

That’s what Jaskier told himself, but he also had another very good reason for wanting to search for his friend alone: When Jaskier was going to find her, he would need to talk to her in private in order to explain what had brought him to Oxenfurt. And, of course, why exactly he needed her help. Jaskier wouldn’t really be able to let her in on the mess Geralt and he were currently caught up in if Geralt was going to be around while doing so. So this seemed like the best time for a private talk without raising any suspicions or upsetting Geralt.

Jaskier was still lost in thought as he walked the academy’s halls, passing the closed doors of smaller lecture rooms which couldn’t be compared in size to the grand auditoriums on the ground floor of the academy. He also passed many students, who paid as much attention to him as he paid to them. None of them wore the characteristically pale green cloaks of the Faculty of Medicine, which Jaskier had been expecting as he was almost certain that he wasn’t very likely to find his friend here. Instead, he already had an idea where he would be able to look for and hopefully find his to-be savior of the day.

After a while, without him really noticing and seemingly on their own accord, his feet had already brought him right in front of the doors he had been looking for: The massive wooden doors of the renowned Library of Oxenfurt Academy stared down at him with their ornamental carvings and their brass metal fittings. Jaskier stared back, for a moment caught in memories and nostalgia before he gently pushed them open. And upon his first glance inside, Jaskier knew that probably not a single thing had changed about the inside of the library: There stood the old bookshelves in the exact same position, stacked to the brim with knowledge that might not have been found anywhere else on the continent. There rang the same leaden silence, weighing on the room like a heavy blanket, and there was the exact same smell of old parchments and students’ despair hanging in the air.

Well, Jaskier had to admit that he had never really been fond of the library. Sure, the architecture and sheer amount of collected knowledge was more than impressive, but it didn’t change the fact that he had always enjoyed it much more to borrow the books he would like to read and retreat to the academy gardens to settle down with them. He was a bard after all, he didn’t like hush atmospheres.

When the doors creaked shut behind him and Jaskier was about to enter the labyrinth of bookshelves, he heard someone decidedly clearing their throat. The seemingly deafening sound in the otherwise perfect silence let Jaskier freeze to the spot, making him feel like he had been caught sneaking out past his bed time. But when he turned around, he was met by a pair of bespectacled eyes, belonging to a tiny ancient-looking woman who was glowering at him from where she was sitting behind the library’s front desk.

“Yes?” Jaskier asked in a low voice, as he walked over to the woman. And upon closer inspection, Jaskier couldn’t help but think that this relic could be the same old lady who had already sat behind the library’s front desk when he himself had still been a student.

_And even back in my days she looked like this front desk hadn’t seen anyone else since the very opening of the library,_ Jaskier thought to himself.

“Your lute,” the bespectacled woman said expectantly.

“What’s with my lute?” Jaskier asked a little tensely, unconsciously taking a step back.

“I must ask you to leave it here before entering the library,” she said, pointing at the big golden plate on her desk reading ‘Please Keep Quiet’.

First, Jaskier narrowed his eyes at the plate before he turned to narrow his eyes at the woman. In response, the old woman also narrowed her bespectacled eyes at him, causing even more wrinkles to appear around them, which Jaskier wouldn’t have thought possible.

Like this, they kept on staring at each other for a moment before Jaskier finally yielded. He took the lute from his back with a huff and handed it over to the woman, who was seemingly pleased with herself.

“Fine! Here. But _please_ be careful with it, it literally cost me some blood and a good deal of pain to get my hands on that lute,” Jaskier stressed as he slightly bent over the desk to see where the old woman let his lute disappear to. 

“There’s not a thing to be worried about,” she said sweetly, but Jaskier didn’t buy it.

“Splendid,” he said, narrowing his eyes one last time at the tiny old woman before turning to head towards the bookshelves.

Jaskier was still very disgruntled as he made his way through one of the larger passages between the shelves, thinking that it was just plain ridiculous to take his lute from him. Really, as if he’d start playing the lute in the middle of a library. He was a bard not a barbarian.

_Is this what Geralt would’ve felt like, if I had gotten him to leave his sword at the inn?_ Jaskier asked himself as he approached the reading room of the library.

The large reading room, as well as smaller adjacent study rooms, provided several desks with seating for students, allowing them to take advantage of the compulsory silence of the library for their studies and readings. And it were the exact same old tarnished chairs lining the same old tables, where decades of scribbles and little carvings created by artistically gifted (and also less talented but primarily bored) students could be found. Jaskier scanned the room for a shock of dark red hair and for the medical faculty typical pale green cloak, and his eyes landed on a young woman, occupying a desk in the far corner of the room. Jaskier felt his mood lift up immediately.

Crossing the room in long, confident strides, Jaskier came to stand next to her desk and had to suppress a chuckle at the sight: She sat bent over the table, her dark red hair fanning out over the book on which she was resting her forehead, apparently using it in lieu of a pillow. Her breathing came calmly and deeply, interrupted only by the occasional unintelligible mumbling.

“Pssst! Shani!” Jaskier whispered, bending a little down. “Hey, Shani! Wake up!”

Shani responded with a soft snore.

“Shani!” Jaskier tried once again, this time gently poking his friend’s shoulder.

At that, Shani’s head shot up and she blinked her eyes rapidly, saying in a voice that was a little too loud for their current surroundings, “I’m wide awake, totally not sleeping! Just been looking veeery closely at this one graph here!”

“What are you talking about, Shani?” Jaskier snorted quietly, raising an amused brow at his friend.

“A pox on it!” Shani said, toning down her volume as well. She was staring at him with wide eyes, and upon closer inspection Jaskier noticed that she had dark bags under her eyes and a wonderful imprint of her makeshift pillow on her forehead. “Jaskier, it’s you! I’m swearing on my mother’s grave, _you_ are the last person I would’ve expected to catch me napping in the library.”

“And it seems like I arrived at just the right time,” Jaskier said, lifting the heavy book up from the table to read its cover. “‘ _De Materia Medica – Disciplina Herbaria Provecta_ ’ – sounds like as much of a fun read as it looked like.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. It’s one of my favorites right after ‘ _De sedibus, et causis morborum per anatomen indagatis_ ’ and the books of the ‘ _Curiosa Physica_ ’ series. Really a must read, all of those.”

Jaskier let out a soft laugh before saying, “Yes, for you certainly, but I’m afraid that I’ll stick to poetry.”

“Oh, some might say that those books are also a form of poetry. But I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss the grandiloquence of my textbooks with me,” Shani commented as she rose up from her chair, taking her book and putting it away in a leather satchel, which she slung over her shoulder. “Shall we take this conversation outside, so I may learn to what I owe the honor of your visit?”

“That would be an excellent idea.”

They made their way out of the reading room and back into the entrance hall of the library in silence, Shani taking the lead and heading right towards the exit.

“A moment,” Jaskier said quietly before he would follow her to the exit. She raised a curious brow at him as he went over to the front desk, from where the old bespectacled woman was already watching him with expectant eyes.

“Here’s your _lute_ ,” she said with an unpleasant smile.

“Thank _you_ ,” Jaskier returned disingenuously, snatching his precious lute from her spiderlike hands. And as he didn’t wish to spend any more time being looked at by those maliciously glittering eyes, he turned to leave in a quick, but hopefully tasteful, manner. Shani opened the large wooden doors for him as he approached, and together they left the library. 

“Wow,” Shani commented as they started to head away from the library and down the halls. “Just now, there was more chemistry going on between the two of you than in the book on alchemy I’ve been reading.”

“Very funny,” Jaskier huffed as he turned his lute in his hands, obviously not trusting the old woman as far as he could throw her. “What the – Would you look at that! The old hag twisted my chords out of tune!”

Shani snorted at his scandalized look. “Oh yes, Old Miss Idalma is a force to be reckoned with – even though she looks like she’s probably 500 years old. Oh, and she doesn’t like students.”

“I would have never guessed!” Jaskier huffed in response, angrily plugging at the chords of his lute, one by one tuning every string back to the correct note. 

“But as hilarious as it is to watch, I’m sure you didn’t come here to let yourself be bullied by a mean old lady,” Shani said, watching him with an amused expression. “So tell me Jaskier, what kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?”

“Oh come on, Shani,” Jaskier laughed a little nervously, feeling called out by her words but trying to cover it up by continuing to busy himself with tuning his lute. “What makes you think that whenever we meet, I’m always stuck in some kind of trouble? It almost seems like you don’t take me for the respectable, righteous bard who I clearly am.”

“Who you _clearly_ are,” Shani repeated, shooting him a sideways glance. “And since you’re such an upright fellow, I’m sure that you just dropped by because you wished to visit your old friend – and that’s clearly what good friends do – and _not_ because you need my help, right?”

“Well.”

“Yes?”

“You might not be _entirely_ wrong about the – You know,” Jaskier said, making a vague gesture which suggested that Shani knew what he was talking about.

“About the what?”

“About the getting-myself-into-trouble thing. Well, if you can call it a thing.”

“Oh, from what I remember it’s definitely a thing,” Shani snorted. She then stopped their stroll down the hallway to come and stand in front of Jaskier, mustering him with a curious gaze. “So, will you finally tell me what this whole thing is about, or are you going to beat around the bush for much longer?”

“I will tell you,” Jaskier said then in a hopefully reassuring tone, even though he wasn’t quite sure whom exactly he was trying to reassure – Shani or himself. “But you need to promise me two things.”

“Not one but two things? Well, I got a feeling that this is going to be interesting.”

“First, you need to promise me that you’re not going to tell anyone about any of this.”

“A physician’s secret.”

“Second, promise that you’re not going to laugh.”

“Well, that entirely depends on what you’re going to tell me,” Shani said with an ominous smile.

Jaskier let a sigh escape his lips and closed his eyes for a brief moment. For some reason it didn’t come easy to him to tell Shani about the potion. Probably because it somehow felt like he was divulging a part of Geralt and himself, a part which felt very private and definitely wasn’t something which should be discussed casually or as in passing. When he opened his eyes again, he turned to briefly check the hallway to make sure nobody was in earshot or paying them enough attention to catch on what he was about to say.

“Okay, you do remember me telling you about Geralt of Rivia the last time we met, right?”

“Oh yes, I remember it quite vividly because you seemed to be all over the moon for that witcher,” Shani replied, apparently lost in thoughts for a moment, tapping a finger to her chin while thinking. “Yes, I remember, and I also remember being quite disappointed that you didn’t introduce me to the famous White Wolf. But you don’t happen to wish to introduce us this time, do you? I must admit, I’d be more than curious to meet a real witcher. Well, curious from a medical point of view, of course.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day then because this exact same witcher happens to be waiting for us in the courtyard in front of the main building.”

“Well, excellent! Then what are we waiting for? Let’s make introductions,” Shani said, already turning to lead the way towards the courtyard. 

“Shani, wait!” Jaskier said at which Shani stopped and turned towards him once more. “You see, this ‘trouble’ we’re talking about? It also involves Geralt.”

“Jaskier, if you won’t stop beating around the bush and finally man up and tell me what’s going on, I swear, I’m going to give your lute back to old Miss Idalma and tell her to proceed with it however she pleases,” Shani said, her eyes flashing with a glimmer which left no questions unanswered as to how she managed to be a summa cum laude student in a predominantly male course of studies.

“Geralt has been dosed up with a love potion and is now totally out of it, and I really need your help to fix this!” Jaskier finally blurted, the words jumping off his tongue before he was able to think them over.

“Come again?” Shani asked, her eyebrows shooting up to disappear beneath her bangs. She also stepped a bit closer, seemingly unconsciously, almost like she’d be able to understand Jaskier’s rushed out confession any better if she stood closer to him.

Jaskier inhaled deeply before trying a second time, “Right now, I have a very enamored witcher on my hands, which isn’t a good thing in a complicated, multilayered kind of way, and I _really_ need him to go back to his brooding, less emotionally expressive self as soon as possible. Also, there are sorceresses and love potions involved in this.”

At his words, Shani’s face did a funny thing: her eyebrows reappeared from beneath her bangs only to draw together either in confusion or consideration, her mouth opened several times as if she was about to say something, but no words would come out. Jaskier felt himself start shifting from one foot to the other, Shani just silently staring at him, making him feel more self-aware by the second. Then, after what seemed like an eternity to Jaskier, Shani’s eyes lit up with something Jaskier couldn’t quite put a name to. But it was something that told him unmistakably that he’d be in for a good deal of mockery starting from the second Shani would start talking.

At first, Shani’s lips just curled up in a smile, giving Jaskier enough time to brace himself for what was inevitably going to happen. Then she started giggling, trying to suppress the sound but ultimately failing to and eventually succumbing to a hearty laugh that rang through the hallway. Jaskier just pressed his lips together, waiting for his friend to regain her posture, noticing that people passing them shot Shani curious glances. Jaskier sighed a sigh of the long suffering.

“Mother of mine! That’s the best laugh I had in weeks,” Shani wheezed, pressing a hand to her side as if the laughter had given her a stitch.

“I’m glad that my problems were able to amuse you,” Jaskier said, smiling ironically with his lips still pressed together in a line.

“Oh, they absolutely were,” Shani agreed, calming her voice, but the ominous glitter in her eyes didn’t disappear. “But please, old friend, forgive my lack of manners, but this was too good a laugh to pass up. Tell me, Jaskier, how come you always end up with the most curious of problems?”

“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question,” Jaskier replied drily.

“Right, of course. Now, you’re dealing with a potioned, enamored witcher? How refreshingly unusual,” Shani said, a smile still playing around the corners of her lips. “And I’m assuming that the object of this magical attraction is no one else but you?”

“You’ve assumed correctly,” Jaskier agreed, feeling the very beginnings of a blush rising in his cheeks.

“And may I ask as to why you need a remedy for this…predicament? From what I’ve heard I was sure that _some_ people,” at this point she gave him a pointed look, “would be jumping for joy to have this particular witcher go all starry eyed over them.”

“Shani, I feel like you’re not going to go about this in a professional, medical way, will you?” Jaskier retorted, feeling how the embarrassed blush deepened the color of his cheeks.

“My, would you look at our bard not being smooth as silk for once? My dear Jaskier, you must excuse my words, but with exams coming up I haven’t had anything fun to deal with for quite some time,” Shani said, not sounding apologetic at all.

“Well,” Jaskier said with a raised eyebrow and his arms crossed over his chest, “now that we’ve settled that my situation amuses you to great extends, can you please tell me if you’re able to help me or not?”

“Well,” Shani said as she once again resumed her way down the corridors towards the courtyard, “this will entirely depend on the state of your witcher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back to this story! Sorry about the radio silence, but this year hasn’t been a good year for being creative (read ‘writing’) for me, and unfortunately I also had a lot of exams coming up, including a very big one. But I had this chapter sitting on my laptop for a while now, and I thought now might be as good a time as any to share it! I don’t know how regularly I can update this story in the future, it might be very sporadically, but I would still be happy to welcome you back on every occasion!
> 
> Still I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Jaskier finding his friend and that you are looking forward to the boys getting into trouble in the future! Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

"Jaskier, not to ruin the mood or anything, but it seems like your Witcher isn't, err, quite around.”

"Oh fuck." 

Jaskier and Shani had just exited the entrance hall to the academy’s main building, now being greeted by an almost mockingly empty courtyard. They had both stopped in their tracks and were now staring ahead, trying to find the distinctive figure of a certain witcher, but only the vast pavement and neatly trimmed lawn were staring back at them. 

Shani then glanced at Jaskier with a quizzical look in her eyes, raising an expectant eyebrow. It disappeared beneath her red bangs. 

"Well, we can only hope that he didn't get dragged off by one of those freshman students," Shani mused mockingly, her eyebrow reappearing from beneath her bangs to draw together with the other one in a frown. "You know, hormones and stuff, the freshmen are practically running on them." 

"I know!" Jaskier snapped, still frantically scanning the courtyard for a tall, leather-clad, devilishly handsome figure. "I was a freshman once as well!" 

"Oh my," Shani snorted, "look at you getting all worked up. Quite afraid of your witcher getting snagged away by someone else, aren't you?" 

"Shani, are you just here to keep on mocking me or will you actually start to help me at some point?" Jaskier said in an annoyed tone, his eyes leaving the courtyard to stare at Shani. 

"Jaskier, please, teasing you is just too easy if you get worked up like this," Shani responded with a placative smile. "But yes, I told you that I would help you. But I also told you that I'll need to observe the Witcher from up close, that I need to observe his actions and his interactions with you as to be able to estimate the love potion's potency. Because I'm not entirely sure if I'll be able to help at all." 

"Don't remind me of that being a possibility," Jaskier said, his voice a bit strained. He then started to descend the impressive stairs that led up to the main entrance, entering the academy's courtyard. "Okay, we need to think. Where would you go if you were a witcher who'd been left alone in a courtyard full of students?" 

"Hm, maybe over there? Where that noise is coming from?" Shani suggested, pointing to a passage that connected the main courtyard with a smaller adjacent courtyard. 

"What? No, I'd go somewhere where it's more quiet not where - Wait, what noise?" Jaskier was torn from his thoughts, his eyes first snapping to the passage then to Shani. "Dear gods, that doesn't sound like any good news." 

Jaskier then promptly started to cross the courtyard quite briskly, Shani hot on his heels. But before they reached the passage, Jaskier once again shot Shani a look, reminding her, "And don't forget about what we discussed about the medical gardens."

“Why, of course I haven’t forgotten about this little plan of yours that involves the very _private_ gardens of the Medical Faculty and expects me to somehow get you into them,” Shani replied, sounding a bit annoyed.

“Please Shani, I told you it’s important!”

“Why does everything you talk about seem to be oh so important?”

When they finally reached the passage and were able to overlook the adjacent courtyard, they both stopped in their tracks, taking in the quite odd picture that was greeting them. The center of attention was, of course, formed by Geralt, seemingly engrossed in a heated conversation with an old man whom Jaskier didn’t recognize. Around them stood a herd of students, listening intently, their attention jumping from one man to the other, quite as if they were watching a game of ball. Unnoticed, Shani and Jaskier stepped closer, mingling with the students as to hear what the two men were talking about.

“And I keep telling you that Knockers are absolute pests, good-for-nothings that lead poor miners astray and delight in their misdeeds,” the old man huffed, his white moustache trembling on his upper lip as if it was just as agitated as the man himself.

“That’s Professor Linus Pitt. He gives lectures on Natural History but is also known for taking interest in monsters and the like,” Shani informed Jaskier under her breath.

“And you still don’t seem to acknowledge that they are nevertheless capable of the nearly impossible,” Geralt retorted, his orange eyes flashing, “being able to cross an entire mountain pass in less than an hour. With steadier footing than any mountain goat for their feet measure a foot and a half. But how would you know, Master Scholar, for all you do is burying your nose and moustache in old dusty tomes written by scholars who, respectively, got their information from dusty, even older tomes.”

Jaskier’s and Shani’s attention, as well as the rest of the students’, jumped back to Professor Pitt.

“Leave my moustache out of this!” Professor Pitt warned, brushing his hand over his trembling moustache as if he was trying to placate it.

“Uh, he took that one personal!” one of the students snickered, his voice just above a whisper.

“And how would you come to know, Master Witcher?” the Professor then continued scornfully, “For I am sure that you, too, once obtained your information from a ‘dusty, old tome’, as you so vividly described it.”

“Why, Master Scholar, you’re not entirely wrong,” Geralt responded with a small smile playing around his lips, “but, as you correctly stated, I’m a witcher, and my profession grants me the questionable advantage of obtaining information from the source itself. And as it just so happens, I once crossed all the way from Gorgon Mountain to the forests of Myrkvid in Toussaint on the back of a knocker in less than half an hour. …That is, of course, after bribing it with a demijohn of vodka.”

An excited murmur went through the crowd of students, all seemingly impressed by such an unbelievable deed.

“Did he really do that?” Shani asked Jaskier with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, if I wanted to turn all of his astonishing contracts and adventures into ballads, I’d be rhyming until the end of my days,” Jaskier sighed. The bard’s initial look of concern, caused by finding the witcher caught up in some kind of trouble (even though it seemed to be only of the intellectual kind up to this point), was now replaced by a fond expression. As Jaskier kept on eyeing Geralt, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle but adorably smug look Geralt was wearing after confronting the Professor with his impressive knowledge.

“Do not mock me like this, Master Witcher!” the Professor bristled, his moustache seemingly standing on end.

“I don’t know, but if you’re done staring lovestruck at your witcher then maybe do something!” Shani hissed, her elbow not so gently making contact with Jaskier’s side. At that, Jaskier blinked a few times before he decided that, indeed, this was the moment for him to intervene.

“Geralt! There you are!” he exclaimed, making his way through the flock of students and to the center of the discussion as if he’d just arrived on the scene. The attention of the students now jumped to him, eyeing him with anticipation.

“And greetings to you too, good Sir!” he said amicably, shaking the hand of the Professor, who hadn’t extended or offered it in any way to Jaskier, for he was still busy staring daggers at Geralt. “May I humbly introduce myself as Jaskier, bard of all the lands cherishing the fine arts and poetry, currently in the means of finishing a most awe-inspiring ballad of the Witcher’s terrific deeds!

“Thus, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt such a most illuminating conversation between two well-learned gentlemen like yourselves, but I now must continue my work, for muse has come to give me inspiration’s kiss, and inspiration is such a fickle thing indeed! Thus, if you will excuse us, good Sir, the Witcher and I shall now bid you farewell!”

Everyone, including Geralt, the professor and the students were blinking at Jaskier with a curious look, except for Shani, who was muttering under her breath and bringing her palm up to connect with her forehead. Jaskier just grinned back at all of them.

“Terrific deeds, indeed!” the Professor huffed, shooting one more stare at Geralt. “Bribing a knocker with a demijohn of vodka! What utter nonsense! What a ballad this will be, Master Poet, what a ballad!”

And whilst shaking his head, the professor turned on the spot and walked away from their little audience, still ill-humoredly muttering under his breath. The rest of the students watched the professor leave with a giggle, the crowd now dispersing as well since the show seemed to be over. Only a few students lingered a moment longer, staring at Geralt with big, dreamy eyes, which Jaskier noticed much to his displeasure. But when they caught Jaskier’s dirty looks, they also hurried away to busy themselves with something else.

“Geralt!” Jaskier said as he finally turned to the witcher. “What did I say about being nice and staying out of trouble?”

Geralt just raised a single eyebrow at the bard. “What? What have I done wrong this time, mind telling me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but maybe it’s not be the best of etiquette to denounce a professor in front of his students? At the academy he’s teaching at?” Jaskier responded dryly.

Geralt huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I was just minding my own business when that puffed up scholar recognized me and started making a fuss by trying to teach me about monsters. So, he had it coming, if you’d ask me.”

Jaskier just sighed a sigh of the long suffering. Then, suddenly, someone was clearing their throat behind them.

“Well, Jaskier?” Shani said, stepping closer to the bickering pair. “Mind introducing us?”

“Ah yes, of course, sorry,” Jaskier said as he took a step back from Geralt, only now noticing just how close they had been standing, and indicating Shani to step closer. “Geralt, please meet Shani, a brilliant fifth semester medical student, if not the best of her entire year. And Shani, this is Geralt, also known as Geralt of Rivia or the White Wolf. You’ve surely heard about him.”

“Indeed, I have,” she said, shooting Jaskier a knowing look, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Why, Geralt, I’m immensely pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m also quite pleased that Jaskier decided to introduce us since I, if you’ll excuse my bluntness, have always been hoping to personally meet a witcher one day. This interest being the result of a general medical curiosity, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Geralt repeated, eyeing Shani with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “I take it that you’re the friend Jaskier was quite hoping to meet up with here in Oxenfurt?”

“You’ve guessed correctly,” Shani smiled pleasantly, ignoring Geralt’s look. “Jaskier’s a decent fellow when it comes to thinking about his friends and paying them a visit. It’s because of his _good heart_ , much unlike those people who only ever drop by when they are in need of something.”

Shani’s smile grew even sweeter, and Jaskier gave a somewhat nervous laugh at her words.

“Absolutely right!” Jaskier said just before Geralt could give one of his clever comebacks to Shani’s ironic statement. But he might have come across a bit too cheerfully, so caught up in his act that he even threw an amicable arm around Shani’s shoulders. Shani seemed unimpressed by the gesture and only raised a single eyebrow.

“To pay you a visit when I’m around is the least I can do, right?” Jaskier beamed at her, his voice only sounding the slightest bit strained.

At that, Shani’s eyebrow rode even higher, once again disappearing beneath her bangs.

“And Geralt and I – ” Jaskier started but promptly cut himself off when he turned towards Geralt and noticed the look in his eyes: Geralt’s catlike eyes were blazing, and he wore an almost thunderous expression, his look fixated on where Jaskier had flung his arm around Shani’s shoulders.

“Anyways,” Jaskier continued then cautiously, taking his arm off of his friend’s shoulders and carefully clasped his hands behind his back. Shani observed this interaction with great interest. “Uhm, Geralt? There was something I wished to show you, right?”

Geralt’s eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s and they were still burning, burning with something Jaskier was afraid to name but made his heart beat faster with a forbidden excitement nonetheless.

“You know, one of the reasons I wished to come to Oxenfurt?” Jaskier prompted once again, this time less secure, increasingly distracted by Geralt’s so familiarly foreign catlike eyes. This only sped up Jaskier’s heartrate, making him want to break eye contact with Geralt, for his chest and cheeks were growing hotter by the minute. But the flickering in Geralt’s eyes kept him captivated, wouldn’t allow him to look away. Then, after a moment which seemed to stretch on for an indecent amount of time, Geralt finally broke the spell between them.

“I do remember,” he said, visibly exhaling through his nose, as if he was trying to get a grip on himself. “What of it?”

“Well, Shani here will be our key to that place,” Jaskier responded after a moment, indicating the medical student with his head. He had to admit that he still felt rather flustered from their exchange of looks, that being the reason for him not quite managing to lift his gaze to meet Geralt’s eyes once again.

“How so?” Geralt asked then, his eyes narrowing the tiniest bit and locking onto Shani’s.

“Oh, I’ll still need to come up with a plan, but our dear Jaskier here was positively begging me to do him this favor. It seems like a big deal to him, this whole trying-to-make-you-happy thing,” Shani said with a dismissive gesture of her hand, but her eyes were laughing and a small smile was tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You – Where – Hm.” Geralt responded ever eloquently. Shani’s words seemed to have the astounding effect of tinging Geralt’s cheeks a soft shade of red as he once again made eye contact with Jaskier.

Jaskier wasn’t off any better than Geralt, needing to swallow hard when Geralt’s eyes met his once more. When he looked at him like _that_. Like that, with those deep, deep eyes, seemingly seeing right into Jaskier’s soul, at any moment going to uncover those hidden feelings Jaskier was so desperately trying to suppress. 

“What’s the matter, boys? Cat got your tongues? Wanna stand here in the courtyard all day? Well, some of the students here wouldn’t mind for sure, judging from the looks they’ve been shooting you, Witcher,” Shani said, glancing at a very specific group of female students, giggling and chattering under their breaths.

“Oh, sure they wouldn’t mind! Who doesn’t?” Jaskier huffed, glad about the change of subject and the chance to avert his gaze and instead look at something that wasn’t giving him palpitations. In fact, he now tried to glower at the indicated group as best he could.

At his words, Geralt’s blush seemed to deepen imperceptibly.

“Well then, shall we go and surprise this witcher, then?” Shani suggested, starting her way towards the gardens.

“By all means!” Jaskier responded, gladly leaving the courtyard and their nosy observers behind. “Are you coming, Geralt?”

Geralt just responded with a drawn out ‘Hm’, as he was, unknown to Jaskier, internally still busy trying to process the fact that Jaskier wished to make _him_ happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter, where they finally reunite with Geralt once more, who only got himslef into a moderate bit of trouble - who would have thought! I hope you'll stick around for the next chapter when Geralt will finally find out what Jaskier wanted to show to him this whole time!
> 
> I'd also be more than happy if you let me in on your thoughts about this chapter in the comments below! <3


	7. Chapter 7

Shani still wasn’t entirely sure why she was doing this. Really. Not only did she have an exam coming up soon for which she needed an unholy amount of study time, no, this whole affair could get her into a heap of trouble all on itself. But fortunately, she deemed herself clever and her connections good enough for this not to happen. But still. Maybe she was a bit too altruistic after all, even for a future doctor.

But was her helping truly of an entirely altruistic nature? Probably not, she mused to herself. After all she was getting a, maybe once in a lifetime, chance to take a very close look at a real witcher – and at a very interesting case of a witcher indeed. Speaking of an interesting case, Shani still wasn’t entirely sure if she was going to be able to help Jaskier with his ‘problem’. After all, magic wasn’t quite her field of studies, even though she knew a thing or two about how magic could affect the human body. With the emphasis lying on _human_. How magic would affect a witcher’s body was undoubtedly an entirely different matter altogether. Not that Shani knew much about witcher physique, but she was quite willing to learn.

So while her thoughts were racing with possible treatments and the like, Shani was also making use of her more spontaneous qualities, making up a plan how to get Jaskier and Geralt into the medical gardens.

_It shouldn’t be too hard, really,_ Shani thought to herself as she was navigating the group’s way over the academy grounds. She also thought that Jaskier could count himself quite lucky to know her: Since Shani was actually one of the students helping to take care of the medical gardens of the faculty, she just so happened to be in possession of a key to the greenhouses – the exact same greenhouses Jaskier was hoping to gain access to.

_I could just sneak them in, make my observations while they’re having a field day and that would be it_ , Shani mused with pursed lips. _If it wasn’t for the fact that those two idiots stick out like a pair of parrots in a flock of doves. I mean, who brings an actual sword to an academy?!_

So Shani had to improvise, said improvisation including: acquiring an additional set of cloaks, worn by the students of the medical faculty, to cover up the bard’s and the witcher’s entirely too conspicuous clothing and, of course, toning down the carelessly open display of weaponry and musical instruments. Which meant getting rid of them for their visit altogether.

Of course, this proposition of hers was met with a considerable amount of protests.

“Is this really necessary, Shani?” Jaskier asked, his voice a bit strained. “I can already feel a trauma of having to leave my lute behind manifesting itself, after that run in with that library scarecrow earlier.”

“And a witcher without a sword is like a man without clothing – ,” Geralt said through narrowed eyes.  
“ – Naked,” Jaskier finished.

_Interesting. One would think you’d have no problem with getting naked for each other._

Shani took a deep breath.

“Jaskier? A word?” Shani said as she took Jaskier aside.

When they were out of earshot Shani said quietly but very determinedly, “ _’A Witcher and a Bard walk into a greenhouse’_ may sound like the beginning of a joke to you, but it sure as hell isn’t for me! So if you want me to have at least _some_ sort of excuse when a professor walks in on us, you’d better make yourselves look like some damned normal students, or else I won’t let you set a single foot into those gardens! Are we understood?”

Jaskier stared back at her a bit dumbfoundedly, unconsciously also taking a step back.

“Damn Shani, I feel like you’re going to be one scary doctor,” Jaskier said with a nervous smile.

“If I have to deal with fools like yourselves,” she responded flatly, returning to the witcher, who had been waiting for them with narrowed eyes and his arms crossed over his chest.

“Okay, Geralt, Shani’s right,” Jaskier said diplomatically. “She’s already doing us, I mean, _me_ a favor here, and I don’t want to get her into any unnecessary trouble.”

“Hm,” Geralt responded noncommittally at first. But after a moment of contemplation he continued, his tone of voice sounding suspicious, “This ‘surprise’ is getting more peculiar by the minute. Why won’t you just tell me what this whole thing is about, Jaskier?”

“Because then it would no longer be a surprise! Come on Geralt, please! This is going to be good, I promise!”

Then Shani observed the most curious thing: Jaskier gave Geralt that pleading puppy look which had stopped working on Shani, or probably anyone, a long time ago. Yet Shani could see how Geralt’s countenance was softening, how he uncrossed his arms over his chest, how one of his hands now started to fiddle with a strap on his leather chest-piece, how his eyes seemed to have a spark in them for a short moment.

One of Shani’s eyebrows rode high on her forehead at witnessing the witcher’s reaction.

_Oh my,_ she thought to herself, _this is going to be…something._

“Alright,” Geralt finally agreed, still looking at Jaskier with a soft look in his eyes. “It’s just, being trained to expect a deadly threat luring around each corner will let you consider twice whether going unarmed is a wise decision.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be needing any weaponry where we’re going,” Jaskier responded with an equally soft expression, a fond look in his eyes.

_Dear gods_ , Shani thought to herself, shaking her head. _Even a blind man would see just how infatuated they are with each other. Why is it that people so often choose to just…_ not _be happy together?_

“So, where shall we leave our things?” Jaskier asked as he turned to Shani.

“You shall hand them to me, and I’ll entrust them with the same people I also plan acquiring the medical cloaks from,” Shani responded quite matter of fact. She tried to act as nonchalant as she could even while being faced with such an open display of amorousness. It actually just made her want to leave these fools of a bard and witcher to themselves and let them figure out the obvious on their own. But Shani had already agreed to helping Jaskier, and she also had to admit that she saw Jaskier’s point of the love-potion making things quite complicated. Who knew what the true nature of this potion was? If it was just mimicking desired yet nonexistent emotions, or if it actually drew out buried and neglected feelings? Jaskier, apparently, didn’t know, and so didn’t Shani. But maybe she was going to be able to help her old friend after all.

After having Jaskier and Geralt agree to her conditions, they made quick work of finding two of Shani’s friends who, after their visit, were poorer by two cloaks but became richer by a witcher sword and an elven lute. Her friends had been gaping at Geralt with huge eyes as he had handed over his sword to them – being much less impressed when it had been Jaskier’s turn to hand them his lute. Jaskier had chosen to be a bit offended by that.

Then, finally, after having Jaskier and Geralt throw on the pale green cloaks of the medical faculty, Shani gave Jaskier a meaningful look which was supposed to tell him that they were now on their way to the gardens.

“Don’t mess this up,” Shani admonished under her breath as she and Jaskier were walking in the front of their little group, while Geralt was walking behind them, letting his gaze roam over the academy grounds. “I need to make some useful observations if I want to be of any help to you. Since I can’t exactly take a blood sample from the witcher or anything of the like, if we wish for this whole affair to stay as inconspicuous as possible, I need to _see_ just how potent this love potion is. So maybe, I don’t know, use your silver tongue to coax some reactions from him.”

“Oh dear, if you’d seen his reactions of the past days…”

“My, you’re not getting coy all of a sudden now, are you? I never thought you of all people would have a problem with putting on a show!”

“This is not a show, Shani!” Jaskier hissed, his eyes sparkling for a brief moment. “This is very real. And there’s a very real chance of someone’s feelings getting hurt in all of this, if we treat it like a show! So if you don’t take this seriously or just regard it as some kind of medical experiment, please say so right away, so I can go and try to get help somewhere else. Because this _is_ important to me.”

At Jaskier’s words, Shani was taken aback for a moment, staring at Jaskier with a look of surprise painting her features. She just wasn’t used to the always seemingly light-hearted (and -headed) bard to take a situation quite as seriously as he did right now. Shani may have to admit to herself that she had, indeed, taken Jaskier’s problem too lightly, not realizing just how fundamentally important his relationship to the witcher was to him. That might have been because Shani had only ever known Jaskier to be the type for fleeting relationships, or rather acquaintances, some of them more clandestine than others. Yet Jaskier was walking next to her, his eyes not laughing for once, his voice serious and his intentions true. Shani had to realize that Jaskier’s feelings had to be so genuine, that he was so serious about them, so serious like Shani had never seen him before in her life. And Jaskier was entrusting _her_ of all people with his problems regarding the man those feelings were devoted to, was trusting her to make things right for him.

_Oh Jaskier,_ Shani thought as she was probably giving him an odd look. _You don’t seem to realize just how far gone you are._

“You’re right, Jaskier,” Shani then said out loud. “It might seem like I took your problem too lightly, indeed. I apologize. I promise that I’ll see what I can do. And I truly don’t want whatever this is between the two of you to go to ruin. Because, you know? I think it might be beautiful. Without the magic involved, that is.”

Shani looked at her old friend with a smile that reached her eyes, and she could see how Jaskier’s cheeks turned the lightest color of pink. He also smiled at her as he responded very softly, “Yes… I think so too.”

They then walked on in silence, Geralt still contently walking behind them. Maybe he was trying to figure out what Jaskier wished to show him with the way he was observing their surroundings, but how could Shani know. She only knew that now she _truly_ wished to help these two figure out this situation, having grown fond of them and their dilemma.

\------

“Sooo, are you excited, Geralt?”

Jaskier had let himself fall back to walk beside Geralt, leaving Shani to lead them to the gardens. He now looked at the witcher with expectant eyes, having to suppress his own excitement and nervousness to keep them from seeping into his voice.

“Hm,” Geralt hummed, as he turned his gaze away from the public academy garden they were currently passing. He looked at Jaskier with shining eyes, the corners of his mouth curling in an amused grin. “It would seem like _you_ are the excited one here.”

“What, me?” Jaskier huffed, laughing at the witcher’s words with a dismissive gesture of his hand. “No way, I’m as calm as a Nekker after you used ‘Axii’ on it.”

“Right,” Geralt agreed with a small laugh, a fully blown smile now complementing his handsome features. God, Jaskier could stare at him like this forever. “I have to admit that I might be quite curious. With your medical friend being all serious about it, having us wear these cloaks as a disguise, I might be wondering just what this melodramatic brain of yours came up with.”

Jaskier gave a playfully indignant huff at Geralt’s words. “Melodramatic! Says the man with white hair and a black leather armor studded with silver!”

Geralt once again responded with a small laugh. It was a quite heart-stopping sound – if anyone was to ask for the opinion of Jaskier’s heart.

“You can’t call someone’s hair melodramatic, Jaskier. And those silver studs are serving a very sensible reason, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Why, of course I haven’t! After all, they complement your hair so well!”

Geralt was staring at him with a curious look in his eyes before he averted his gaze with a drawn out ‘Hm’. Jaskier could see a more private smile now gracing the witcher’s features as Geralt seemingly unconsciously brought one of his hands up to touch one of his silver strands absentmindedly. The gesture was absolutely endearing to Jaskier.

_God, how I’ll be missing this once we find a remedy for the potion,_ Jaskier thought wistfully, a sudden pang of sadness pressing down on his chest. As Jaskier let his gaze wander on ahead, he made eye contact with Shani, who was giving him a soft look over her shoulder. It felt almost a little reassuring to Jaskier.

Her demeanor had changed since Jaskier had first confronted her with his problem, he noticed. She must have thought him a fool at first, apparently not understanding how his predicament, from his point of view, could be considered a problem at all. She probably must have thought that he should be jumping for joy at having Geralt now share his feelings. But now she must have realized that it wasn’t so easy, that Jaskier was dreading the moment when the love potion’s effects would wear off. That he was afraid that if he was to allow himself to indulge in the possibility of a brief shared happiness, Geralt would eventually come back to his senses and realize that Jaskier had taken advantage of the situation, of _him_ , of feelings that should have never existed in the first place.

Jaskier heaved a sigh at his own thoughts which earned him an almost concerned look from Geralt. There was an adorable crease between the witcher’s brows and he found Geralt searching his eyes for an answer to an unasked question. Jaskier responded with a reassuring smile. He was fine. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to wander to dark places right now. He needed to make this good for Geralt. He _wanted_ this to be good for Geralt. If the witcher felt like there was no appreciation for him and his kind in this world, Jaskier felt the need to show him that there was someone appreciating him. He wanted Geralt to know that _he_ was appreciating him. That’s why Geralt deserved this to be good, that he deserved it to be made happy.

They finished the rest of their way in silence, all lost in their own thoughts. Jaskier felt a slight nervousness gripping his stomach the closer he deemed them to their destination. Then, Shani was calling Jaskier to join her in the front of their little group, slowing her pace.

“When we turn left at the end of this passage we’ll be there,” she mumbled as she shot him a sideways glance. The passage they were currently walking down was open to the adjoining academy gardens to the left, columns sprouting from the balustrade holding up the passage’s roofing. The lack of windows between the columns allowed a slight breeze to carry the airy scents of the garden through the passageway. Jaskier even noticed, now that Shani had drawn his attention to it, that the greenhouses of the medical faculty could already be glimpsed behind the high hedge that was marking the public gardens’ end.

After a moment of shared silence had passed between them, Shani asked softly, “Are you excited?”

Jaskier let a long exhale escape his lips before responding, “You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back and thank you so much for reading! I was actually planning for the garden scene to happen this chapter, but then things just got away from me and the chapter got kinda huge – that’s why I split it, so please look forward to Jaskier’s grand reveal of his surprise in the next update ;)
> 
> I hope you still liked this update and the little insight into Shani's thoughts and are now looking forward to the next chapter! I’d be really happy to see you there once more!


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